My Pale Skin
by TheArtlessRose
Summary: About three things I was absolutely positive. First, I was a vampire. Second, there was a part of me — and it scared me how potent that part may be — that thirsted for blood. And third, I was a murderer. A monster with no soul. He had given me that girl, and I had killed her, just like he wanted me to. Now he had complete control, and there was nothing I could do about it. BxE
1. The Hunter (Preface)

**My Pale Skin**

 **by Isabella Morgan Meyer**

 **Summary:** About three things I was absolutely positive. First, I was a vampire. Second, there was a part of me — and it scared me how potent that part may be — that thirsted for blood. And third, I was a murderer. A monster with no soul. He had given me that girl, and I had killed her, just like he wanted me to. Now he had complete control, and there was nothing I could do about it. Bella x Edward

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight. Twilight is the property of Stephanie Meyer, and is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain from this, nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only. I do not own anything that bears a resemblance to Twilight or any other story on this site.

 **A/N:** This story is dedicated to my best friends Ana and Juvi, without whom it would not have been possible.

* * *

 **My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter One: The Hunter (Preface)**

I'd never given much thought to how I would die — though I'd had reason enough in the past few months — but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this.

The blood-red eyes of the hunter standing before me narrowed into slits as he inspected his latest masterpiece. Venomous tears that would never be shed filled my eyes, my clothes were tattered, and my shoulder was burning from his venom. Summoning up whatever energy I had left, I glared back up at him, my golden eyes shining in pain.

He took a step towards me.

"Such a shame," he said, his Italian accent carrying out the words vehemently. "It doesn't have to be like this, _Isabella._ You don't have to end up like _that_ child — poor thing. She was no use to me anymore, and I don't like to keep _pests_ around."

My eyes widened.

"You _didn't_ ," I whispered. Stepping even closer so he was right in front of me, he lifted my chin up to meet his smirking gaze with his free hand.

"I did," he purred. "You are next, and then that precious mate of yours." I snarled at him ferociously, the venom in my eyes burning like tears used to when I was human. "Oh but _Isabella_ , you chose this for yourself, didn't you?" He leaned closer, and I ripped myself away from him.

"You won't kill me," I choked. "You can't… you need me!"

His face contorted in anger.

"I do not need you, or anyone else!" He yelled in his old timely way, his beautiful, sparkling face filling with rage. "You are merely a desire, and I will not hesitate to eliminate you!" Then he paused, composing himself again. Once again, his trademark sadistic smile graced his lips.

I could feel the heat of the fire from where it burned in the torch he was holding as it illuminated my sparkling skin with its flames. It was so close — the fire was _so close_.

"Any last words?"

I stayed silent and glared at him fiercely before collapsing into the snow in pain. He winced, feeling my pain from his gift, but never once broke his facade.

"No? Oh my, dear, you seem to be feeling quite a bit of pain there. How about I end it now and do you a favour?"

The hunter smiled in a friendly way as he sauntered forward to kill me.


	2. Another Day

**My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter Two: Another Day**

Tears fell down my face, my chocolate brown eyes turning puffy and red. I quickly dabbed at them with my sleeve, the soft, white fabric soaking them up generously. It was only natural to wear white today - right now, the weather in Phoenix was 74 degrees, despite the fact that it was almost December. In this heat wave, I would wear white to a funeral.

I quickly pulled out my cell and checked the time; I had about five minutes left to get to class. Placing a bookmark into the book I was currently reading - 'Sense and Sensibility' from my collection of Jane Austen works - I got up out of the purple library beanbag I was lounging in and bade a farewell to the librarian, who's name I couldn't quite remember.

I walked across the long, empty hallway from the library to my Advanced Biology classroom, the yellow walls, coloured the way they were to distract children from the prison-bar exterior of the building, littered with posters for the end-of-semester dance.

The hallways were silent and empty. Everyone must have still been in the cafeteria, luckily for me. I didn't want anyone to see me like this, especially since I was still unaware of how I looked. I quickly ducked into the bathroom to assess my appearance. I mean, I had just spent lunch crying in the library over a well-written book, so I was pretty sure I didn't look my best — not that I cared. I just… didn't want them to think they had made me cry again.

'They' being the same people who had been making me cry for years.

I was perfectly happy in my own pale skin when I was five years old and living in Riverside. My mother looked just like me, only prettier and with shorter hair. She was perfectly beautiful to me, and to her boyfriend at the time, Jonathan. Jon was kind, but he was still really only a rebound from Charlie.

When I was six, Renee found a job offer in Phoenix as a schoolteacher, so we moved there. I don't think she liked Riverside very much.

Phoenix was… different, to say the least. Everyone here was different. Not like in Riverside.

Riverside was such a small town, only just larger than Forks where I'd been born. We would chat with the cashiers at the corner store. We had picnics with our neighbours on nice spring days. We lived in a little, wooden cottage in a lovely, small neighbourhood.

Phoenix was large. Busy. There was hardly a chance that I would know anyone at a grocery store, much less the cashier. I couldn't tell you our neighbours' names.

And then there were the people who's names I wish I didn't know.

It was fine for a while — I could handle the words. I was very mature for my age, as my mother wasn't the most responsible, and I had learned to do most things myself. But when things started escalating, I wasn't sure how much more I could handle.

I stood in front of the sink and looked into the mirror.

The girl in the reflection was deathly pale and sickly thin. Her hair was dull and a dark mahogany colour, and under her emotionless eyes resided deep, purple bags. Her lips were thin, chipped, and bare. Her baggy clothes hung loosely on her thin, bruised body, hiding the fact that her ribs were visible through her skin, but there was no masking how her cheekbones jutted out of her skinny face. She looked dead. She looked like… a vampire.

I sighed. Turning on the tap, I ran my hands under the water and splashed my face. I grabbed some of the organic paper towel from the dispenser and wiped off the water, looking into the mirror again to gauge the changes.

Better. Still bad, but better. The tear stains were less apparent, the bags were subtler, and the red irritation that sat on my cheeks after using the scratchy paper towel made them look somewhat healthy — at least now they had some colour.

"Get it together, Bella." I said to myself, my voice, raspy from crying, echoing through the empty stalls. I cringed at the noise.

The bathroom was completely empty. Was everyone still in the cafeteria? Usually this place was swarming with barbies checking their face-paint.

My stomach groaned, having missed lunch and all, and I groaned along with it. Suddenly, I remembered why everyone was in the cafeteria — it was taco Tuesday, and Barbara, the lunch lady, made some mean tacos. Oh well, it wasn't like I was actually going to eat. I hadn't eaten a full meal in days.

As the shrill sound of the bell rang through the halls, I groaned again and slid down the wall onto the bathroom floor, clutching my stomach — well, trying to clutch my stomach. I ran my hand along it through my shirt, feeling the fabric curve around my ribcage, and shivered. I didn't want to be like this.

I sighed. If I didn't leave now, I would be late for class, no matter how unpunctual the teacher was.

I caved and slipped out of the bathroom, heading for the Bio lab — I wasn't about to be late to Biology because of my impending hunger stroke. Luckily for me, it wasn't too far away from the bathrooms. I think that was because the Chem lab was right beside the Bio lab. I'd heard of many instances of spilling harmful chemicals during my time in high school, and so far it only the first semester of my junior year.

Arriving to class just before my teacher, I quickly sat in an empty seat at the back of the classroom and winced as a weak growl sounded from my stomach.

Since Mr. Montgomery — or Chemicals, as we liked to call him — was late to class again, the room was filled with mindless chatter. I pretty much tuned it all out, at least until I heard my own name mentioned. Well, not my own name, but something that I'd pretty much gotten used to being called — _it_.

" _It's_ still crying over what happened this morning! Pathetic…"

"Look at _it_! _Its_ face is all blotchy…"

"Bags under _its_ eyes…"

"Bruises on _its_ arm…"

" _It's_ so white…"

I rested my cheek on my arm, pressing my palms onto my ears to block them out. The talking became buzzing, but I still made out one word, albeit completely unintentionally.

" _Vampire_ …"

I closed my eyes. _Vampire…_ that was what they called me. Because of my pale skin… and my dark hair… and the bags under my eyes… and my colourless lips… and the baggy white clothes I wore, not just because of the heat, but also to distract from my paleness and skinniness.

Luckily for me, Mr. Chemicals chose then to walk — um, run — into the classroom, throwing open the door with his free arm —the one that wasn't hugging a box labeled 'whitefish blastula slides' to his chest. Sometimes he really did act as if he'd inhaled too many chemicals, hence his unflattering nickname.

"Sorry… I'm… late," he said, catching his breath in between each word. "I was… at… a fish's… funeral."

I gave him a weird look, as I'm sure everyone else was doing. He sucked in a lungful of air before beginning to speak again.

"Today, as you can see, I have a box full of slides. Now, these slides are out of order. Your task is to separate them into the phases of mitosis they represent and label them accordingly. Will one lab partner please come up and get the materials while the other sets up their microscope?"

My lab partner, Crystal and I silently agreed on our tasks, so she quickly got up out of her seat to get the materials. Crystal was a sweet girl, never judging me for my appearance. Not once did she partake in this whole vampire fiasco.

Crystal… I didn't want to be her friend. Not because I didn't like her, definitely not — she was the sweetest. I just didn't want her to go through what I was going through. And, as selfish as this sounds, I didn't want it to be because of me. I didn't need that on my conscience on top of everything else.

Plugging in the microscope, I peeked through the eyepiece and turned on the light. After a quick check to make sure everything was in place, I set it aside and waited for Crystal to come back.

That didn't take long. When she got back with the materials, we started the lab. It wasn't hard, so even with us chatting the entire time, we were the first to finish. For Advanced Biology, these people really didn't care all that much.

"So," Crystal began, turning to me after jotting down the identification. "About what happened this morning—"

"Metaphase."

She paused and scribbled my answer onto the checking sheet, her impatience only worsening her messy scrawl.

"As I was saying, did what Jessica said—" she paused again when I shoved the microscope towards her and handed her a slide.

"We should really get this done before class is over," I said, taking the pencil in my hand, awaiting her response. She frowned, but took the microscope and clipped in the slide.

"We have an hour," she said. "And we're closest to done."

I just shrugged. I knew I was being harsh to Crystal, but it was better for her if we weren't friends. Even so, she was the best friend I had — that was what I was afraid of.

"Bella," she said softly, shocking me slightly — it was the first time I had heard someone, apart from Renée, call me that all year. To the teachers, I was either 'Isabella' or 'Miss Swan' — neither of which were appealing to me — and to my classmates I was just… invisible, unless they were throwing me into walls, hence the bruises on my arms, or stealing my gym clothes from my shoe locker.

However, to Crystal, I was Bella.

I was her friend.

"Please, don't listen to her. Jessica's a witch," she said, bringing her eye to the lens and turning the adjustment knob. "I think it's prophase. Wanna check?"

"Anaphase," I said after a short glance. "Nice try." She crossed out 'prophase' and replaced it with my answer.

Jessica Walker: blonde, blue-eyed, tan, sporty — pretty much every city girl stereotype mixed into one person. Unluckily for me, though, she wasn't a made up character — just fake like a barbie doll. I was sure she'd never even stepped foot outside of Phoenix, and it wasn't because of money issues — her family was loaded. Her dad was part of some big-shot family business or something.

Crystal was right — Jess was a witch. An absolute witch. And what exactly had she done to me that morning?

Mom had just dropped me off in the parking lot. Yes, I was old enough to drive — seventeen — and I had my license, but mom was going to meet her boyfriend, Phil later that day, so she needed the car.

I had arrived a few minutes early, so I was sitting at a table in the cafeteria and working on some extra credit, as I needed to keep up my grades for the International Studies program in Europe I was applying for. Crystal was sitting in a corner working on a large canvas; I'd seen some of her artwork, and it was all lovely.

No one else was in the cafeteria, so it was really quiet. At least it _was_ , until Jessica walked in with a group of girls, all wearing similar clothing — or lack of, to be precise — and giggling obnoxiously. They all gathered around a table not too far from me, but far enough that I couldn't hear what they were saying.

They hadn't acknowledged me or Crystal yet, luckily for us. From where I was sitting, I could see them whispering to each other — well, more like Jessica was whispering and they were listening. Every now and then, they would glance over at me and burst into a fit of giggles, at least until Jessica shushed them and regained their full attention — which, with hindsight, I'm sure wasn't much.

After rolling my eyes, I had ignored them completely. By then, I'd completed my extra credit and was working on my application to my school's International Studies program.

It was then, as I was contemplating the course selection form, that I had felt something irregularly shaped hit me on the back of the head and then fall into my lap. I'd known what it was without looking at it, though — those girls must have gotten really good at making them, considering how many times they had hit me before. That number was quite large, which is how I knew what the object was: a paper airplane. The worst part? I had also known exactly what it would say, yet I read it anyway.

 _"_ _I wish you'd killed yourself three years ago when you found her suicide note. Maybe then I wouldn't have to look at your hideous face right now."_


	3. Clean Break

**My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter Three: Clean Break**

Leo Tolstoy once said: all happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

Families are a lot like people.

I can't read minds. I could never have known that Tessa was unhappy, or known why. It didn't help either that we were polar opposites in so many ways; I always had been a bad liar.

It only seemed unfair that she had waited until after she was six feet under to tell me why she had done it.

To tell me why I wasn't enough to keep her alive.

Nobody knows why Tess killed herself except for me and Jessica. Because it was our fault. Guilt like that doesn't ever leave, not for me. The wound was still deep, even if it had been a clean break.

 _A clean break._

I've always had a fragile heart, I think. Unrepairable, really, even with a clean break.

Jessica was always one to tell me I was being dramatic, that I should just get over it — the 'little incident' was _three years_ _ago_ ; but to me, three years had never been enough to fix it.

You never really do get over the suicide of your sister, do you?

* * *

"Anaphase," I said after a short glance. "Nice try." She crossed out 'prophase' and replaced it with my answer.

As the checking sheet progressively filled in, the room around us remained fairly silent, apart from the clicking of the microscope and a few short conversations regarding the lab. I was intentionally putting off an air of hostility to keep Crystal away, and it was most definitely working. As much as I wanted to be her friend, it was better for both of us if we weren't.

The rest of the day was pretty normal, apart from the fact that all seven hundred of the kids in my junior class alone had already gotten the memo of what had gone down in the cafeteria. Curse Jessica and her big mouth.

As I walked down the familiar hallway to my locker after last period, I was met with intense stares from most of the student body — not exactly the best way to end the day. It was moments like this — actually, it was all the time — when I preferred to be invisible.

Some people were giving me smug, demoralizing looks. They agreed with Jessica, of course they did. Why shouldn't they? It wasn't like I could stand up for myself — everything she said about me was true. I could only agree with her.

Some people were looking at me with pity. I could see it in their eyes, and for a second it gave me a bit of hope. That is, until I remembered that having pity for someone and caring about them are two very different things.

I hated those looks of pity.

* * *

The screeching of the old buses tires faded as I turned the corner and continued up the street to my house. Mom's car wasn't in the driveway, so I assumed that she was out with Phil.

I pulled the keyring out of my pocket as I made my way to the front door, sorting through the keys for the one that unlocked it. My fingers caught on one key in particular, one I'd had for years, and I choked back the sobs again. I quickly unhooked it from the ring and grasped it in my other hand, unlocking the door and stepping inside.

Shoes and backpack discarded on the floor, I raced upstairs to my bedroom. Hanging from the handle was a sign Tessa and I had made in fifth grade. It read, "Tess and Bella's room!" in sloppy handwriting and was covered in little stickers. We weren't actually roommates, but she slept over so much it was like we did live together. I didn't like change, so I kept it there.

The inside of my room was no different. It looked almost identical to how it had looked three years ago. The walls were a light blue colour, faded from age and bare of posters or pictures. The ceiling was the same, only decorated with clouds to look like the sky. When I was a kid, I had put little glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling so my room wouldn't be so dark. I had always hated the dark.

That was one thing Tess and I never agreed on. She loved the dark — said it was… safe. She never wore dark colours, though; bright and vibrant was more her style. She loved colourful tank tops and shorts, at least until she had to stop wearing them to hide her bruises.

Tess hated the sun, even though she could never escape it. First France, living there her whole life and visiting every summer, and then Arizona. She was surrounded by it. I swear I'd never seen her without dark sunglasses to keep the sun out of her eyes — she even wore them inside, on top of her head, just to be safe. And to keep her bangs out of her face. Although she started wearing them inside too, to hide her puffy, red eyes and a bruise on her forehead from being pushed into a locker…

God, how could I have not known? The one time I took her to Forks, she had been so desperate not to leave. Maybe that wasn't just because of the sun.

I hated Forks. Arizona was my home, with its sunny streets and its tall buildings. Forks suffocated me.

But I guess that's why Tess and I were such good friends. Yin and Yang, she would have called it. Light and dark. We balanced each other out, and now I was… unbalanced. Falling face first onto the pavement and never getting up.

I shook myself out of my thoughts and sighed.

All of my furniture was cream coloured, along with my headboard, but my bedspread had always been a deep purple. I dropped onto my bed and groaned, rubbing my temples to lessen the throbbing. The blue fluorescent glowing in the corner of my eye from the ceiling stars was giving me a headache — I'd never bothered to take them down — so I rolled over in my bed and pulled the string on my lamp to turn on the light.

My gaze caught a picture frame, face-down on my bedside table beside the lamp. I lifted it up, looking at the nicely framed photo inside it.

It was of a girl and I, 13 years old, our arms securely wrapped around a boy that looked a year or two younger than us. He was almost our height though, and his long black hair reached his tan shoulders. The three of us were so close back then, Tess, Jacob and I.

Tess had dirty blonde hair that bobbed right above her chest and green eyes that were swirled with grey. Her skin was sun kissed from living in France for most of her life, and then Arizona right after.

She was definitely beautiful. When she moved here, Tess could have had a lot of friends. But she didn't; she chose me, and as grateful as I am for that, every day I wish she hadn't.

If I hadn't been her friend, she would have still been alive. I wouldn't have stopped responding to the bullies thanks to my newfound happiness, and they wouldn't have gone after Tess. They wouldn't have driven her to death.

I had a friend — I was happy. Happier than I'd ever been in Phoenix. Jake wasn't here. He couldn't help me, but Tess could. Nothing Jessica or her friends said could make me upset anymore, and they didn't like that, so they went after someone who wasn't used to getting bullied, who would get hurt easily: Tess.

I didn't notice. I thought that after she stood up for me, they had stopped. That was how bullying was supposed to work, right? She hid it from me well, though. Then again, Tess had to be a good liar — she was an actress. At least until she stopped doing that, too. It was like the Tess I knew had just… disappeared. Died.

I believed that her broken leg was from falling down the stairs. So did her parents. And the doctors. I never knew that she wasn't clumsy, like she pretended to be.

I never would have expected her to kill herself.

When she was released from the hospital, it was her birthday. I remember giving her a little cupcake with a candle in it, and our families singing her happy birthday by the fireplace. She looked sincerely happy.

The next day they found her in her bed with an empty bottle of painkillers in her hand.

The picture frame in my hand cracked sightly under the pressure I was putting on it through my hands clenched around it. I loosened my grip on it and set it back down on the table, upright this time, smiling sadly at the memory of when that picture was taken.

I'd taken Tess with me to Forks for Christmas break, and all of us had spent it together. That meant most of Forks, actually. This was the first time I'd spent Christmas in Forks since butt crack Santa when I was four, and everyone seemed to want to spend it with me. Most of the time Tess, Jake and I would make mud pies out back.

Mud pies were a Jacob and Bella tradition, I guess. Ever since we'd bonded over the summer of his ninth birthday, and I'd helped him through his mom's death, we'd been best friends. I'd look after him when Billy and Charlie went fishing. Even though I was only a few years older, both of us could handle ourselves for a couple of hours. My mom always said I was born thirty-five years old and that I got more middle-aged every year.

Jake and Tess got along really well. They'd even gone on a date or two, whenever Tess and I were in town. I really thought they could have been something good together.

When the photo was taken, it was on Tess's 13th birthday, December 27. I remember her telling us about how she was having bad dreams for a few months, so Jacob had made a dreamcatcher for her, with the help of Sue, of course. It was cute — adorable really.

I smiled at the memory, until I felt a stinging in my hand. The key I was holding was digging into the skin of my palm, so I shifted it to my other hand. I'd forgotten about it already.

Getting out of bed, I made my way to my desk and opened the bottom drawer. In it were two diaries from Disney Land, collecting dust since the last time I'd opened the drawer, approximately three years ago. They were identical apart from one thing: one of them was labeled 'T' and the other 'B'. I picked up Tessa's and sat back down on my bed.

She'd left a note on top of the diary for me before she died.

 _Read this Bella. It has everything you need to know,_ it had read. The key for my diary opened hers too, so I had done what she told me to do and read through the pages the night of her funeral.

She was right. It told me everything I needed to know.

She was bullied because of me. Even though she would never admit that it was my fault, I knew it was.

The last page before it went blank was what really made me fall apart, though.

I opened the diary for the second time and cracked it open to the final page of writing that had been ripped out of the book and taped back in.

 _I'm sorry. Please don't do anything reckless. Take care of yourself, Bella — for me. Time heals all wounds. I wanted to say goodbye, but a clean break is better for you. XOXO, Tess_

My head started pounding again. It felt like I had a killer hangover, minus the alcohol. I'd only ever drank once — the first time I'd read her diary. Memories flooded back to me, unwelcome.

 _I ripped the page out of the diary after reading the contents and folded it messily in half, shutting my eyes tightly and roughly massaging my temples. Grabbing the piece of paper, I swung my legs off the bed and hopped off, throwing my door open and slamming it behind me. I took the stairs two at a time and made my way to the kitchen._

Bella, _I heard her sing-song voice chanting in my head._ Don't do this. Don't do this to yourself, Bella. You promised.

 _I threw the paper down on the counter. Standing on the tips of my toes, I yanked open the cabinet above the fridge, grabbing the first bottle my hands could get a hold of. I popped the cap off and grabbed the folded paper, flipping it open and bringing it closer to my face so I could read it again. The last few words were almost illegible; her hands must have been shaking badly._

 _My ears turned red and started to buzz, a ringing sound echoing in my head as her words stabbed me over and over._

A clean break is better for you.

A clean break.

 _My breathing accelerated, and I could feel the tears pouring out of my eyes. I felt a burning sensation in the back of my throat as the warm liquid from Renée's mystery bottle slid down it. The room started to spin._

 _My back hit the wall and I lowered myself to the floor, coughing. It felt like there was something in my throat, like I was choking. I took another sip, this time managing to keep it down._

 _My head started to throb, and my sight blurred. I could feel my heartbeat getting faster and my pulse throbbing against my wrist. I… I wanted to scream. Black spots clouded my vision._

I don't remember much after that. I just know that after drinking the whole bottle, I passed out on the floor of the kitchen. That was how my mom found me the next morning.

I locked the diary back up and placed it in the drawer. The key, however, I looped on a chain and tied it around my neck. I changed into a pair of sweatpants and an oversized long-sleeved shirt to hide my bruises and tucked the key into my shirt to hide it.

I heard the roar of a car pull into the driveway, followed by the slam of the front door. Assuming it was just Renée, I threw my hair into a messy bun and jogged downstairs. I reached just in time to see my mom enter the living room, but she wasn't alone.

"Oh! Hello Phil, mom," I said, waving at them, the memory of my best friend raising my spirits considerably. I felt so much closer to her with the key around my neck and resolved that it would stay there.

"Hey Bella," he replied, smiling. I liked Phil, even if he was a little young for my mom.

"What did you guys do all day?" I asked. They'd been out a really long time. "Anything exciting?"

They exchanged a look, and my mom bit her lip nervously. I guess I get that from her.

"Mom? Phil? Is everything okay? I feel like there's something you're not telling me…"

My mom let out an over-dramatic sigh and turned to her boyfriend. "I can't hold it back any longer, Phil! She deserves to know!" She turned to me and held out her left hand for me to see.

"You're getting married?"


	4. She Loves 'Em

**My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter Four: She Loves 'Em**

 _"_ _You're getting married?"_ I exclaimed, taking my mother's hand in my own to closer inspect the ring. It was a sterling silver princess cut — simple and elegant, but not too ostentatious in my opinion.

The engagement ring was stunningly beautiful, but I'd never been one to be distracted by material things.

Clearly their relationship was more serious than I thought it was; never would I have imagined that my mom would get married again. She'd always been the one to tell me that marriage only caused pain and complications. I wasn't sure how I felt about this.

I mean sure, I liked Phil, but I hardly knew him! Now he was going to be my stepfather? That was a big step for us. Someday, sure, but I wasn't sure if I was ready for it yet. Honestly though, all I wanted was for my mom to be happy, and if that meant getting to know Phil, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

"That's… great. Congratulations mom," I said, making up my mind to be happy for her. Yes, Phil was young, but my mom has always been young for her age, unlike me.

Suddenly, with a low grumble of my stomach, I remembered that in all of the drama going on, I'd forgotten to start on our dinner. I was pretty hungry, considering that I hadn't eaten for a significant amount of time. I turned to my mom's fiancé and said:

"Are you staying for dinner, Phil? I'll go run and put some tea on the kettle. I haven't started on dinner yet — too much homework, but I can make enough dinner for three with mom's help." Renée didn't like the taste of coffee, so I'd grown accustomed to making tea for her. It helped her calm herself down after doing something exciting, she said. I think they just offered it at that beauty salon she went to one time and she thought it looked sophisticated.

"Actually, Bella, we already ate," Renée replied sheepishly, glancing down at the ring on her third finger again, probably thinking about when he'd proposed — at a restaurant, most likely, if they'd already eaten. "I'll tell you all about it later. Actually, I'll tell you now. Phil was just leaving."

"Are you sure? You can still stay for tea…" I offered, making an effort to get to know him and for us to spend some more time together. Phil opened his mouth to reply, but Renée cut him off, clearly wanting him to leave so she could tell me about the day's events.

"No thanks, Bella. Phil doesn't like tea, do you Phillip?" She gave him a pointed look, and he held his hands up in surrender.

"Alright, alright, I can take a hint. I'll see myself out. Later Bella. Bye, Renée." He gave my mom a short-but-sweet peck on the lips and pulled me into a tight hug with his strong arms — baseball makes a man strong, I guess — before seeing himself out, like he said he would, with a short wave over his shoulder.

I looked at my mother and raised my eyebrows at her expectantly, but she was staring out the window intently at Phil's retreating figure, acting like a lovesick puppy — she really did have it bad. Hopefully second time's the charm for her.

When she finally pulled her nose away from the window, leaving a foggy outline where it used to be, she took one look at my expression and said, "What?" I pulled my eyebrows higher together, and we both burst out laughing.

My mother brings joy into my guilt-stricken life.

Thinking back to that day when she found me passed out on the floor… I think she blamed herself for that. You know, for keeping alcohol in my reach. But the thing is, I wasn't a baby anymore, even back then. Yes, I was fourteen, young, and dumb, but she never expected me to do something like that. It definitely wasn't her fault — just something I added to my open tab of guilt. Guilt will definitely be the thing to kill me someday.

"So…" I began, "Phil, huh?" A huge grin spread its way across her face as she launched into the details of his proposal. I placed a hand in the small of her back and lead her from the hallway to the couch in the living room as she yammered on about her afternoon, listening in from the kitchen where I was making some herbal tea to calm her incessant chattering. Bobbing the tea bag up and down in our favourite set of teacups that were chipped at the sides from too much love, I hummed in agreement with her as she spoke, fixing my hair back into a messy brown bun when it fell out of the elastic.

From what I gathered of her talking, they'd gone to dinner, like I had guessed. Then she started talking about wedding plans — she wanted to have the wedding in Mexico in a few months time. It was quite a farfetched idea, and a very short time to plan a wedding in, but Renée kept insisting that she could do it, and that she'd practically been planning the wedding since she met Phil. It was the perfect date for the wedding, too — I'd be back from Italy by then, assuming that I got into the program.

I tried my hardest to listen to her intently, but my head was still pounding for some reason, and I was starting to get the slightest bit dizzy.

"Here mom," I said slowly handing her the piping hot tea, and she stopped for a moment to thank me and take a soothing sip of tea before she continued, slower this time for my benefit. I let the steam relax my face and appreciated the herbal scent, taking a long sip to ease my sore throat. My head quieted its pounding in my ears a bit, and I sighed in relief. Sadly, it only lasted for a while, and soon my vision was blurring again. What was going on with me?

Renée was talking about something uninteresting — dresses, I think — when she must have finally noticed that I wasn't paying attention. She waved her hands in front of my face and shot me a worried glance.

"Honey? You seem a little… out of it today. Is everything alright?"

"Y-yeah mom, everything's fine. I just… can't seem to concentrate lately," I said slowly, trying to ignore the buzzing in my ears and the obnoxious throbbing in my head. It felt like someone was hitting my brain with a hammer, and I resisted the urge to rub my temples so as not to worry my mom. "Just tired, I think. Mind if I turn in for the night?"

Her brow furrowed in worry. "Sure hon, just tell me if you don't feel well."

I nodded, heading for the stairs. My eyes started to droop, and I suddenly started feeling really tired. Yawning, I rubbed my eyes, struggling to keep them open, and felt my legs go a bit wobbly.

My fingers started to tingle, and I couldn't hear over the unbearable ringing in my ears. "Mom?" I yelled, my voice sounding strangely faraway. "I don't… feel too good."

"Bella? Bella, are you alright?"

"Fine," I gasped, panting over my knees and squinting to see. My forehead burned, and I broke out into a cold sweat. "It's… hot." Scared, frustrated, and panicked, I felt my heart race and my body go weak. This was escalating quickly, whatever it was. I felt my head hit the wall and a warm liquid drip onto my neck before hitting the floor and going completely numb.

Black spots covered my vision, and the last thing I heard before drifting away was my mother's familiar voice calling my name again worriedly. A sharp pain in my side pulled me into unconsciousness, and I was taken over by darkness.

* * *

 _\- three years ago -_

The tall grass, wet from morning dew, brushed against the pale skin below my knee, gently grazing the hem of my white funeral dress. The warm December sun was half-way its climb up the horizon, showering early morning, lazy Arizona with beams of orange sunlight, shattering its dreams of a white christmas this year, once again. I slid past Green Acres' gate, the cold metal heavenly upon my burning skin.

I slipped off my devilish two-inch heels, placing them against the fence and rubbing my sore feet, pausing to wince at an especially tender blister. The wet lawn was almost therapeutic against it.

Continuing up the hill, the grass was cut shorter and shorter, until I could barely feel it under my feet. Inscribed headstones jutted out of the dirt, marking the presence of spirits. They all laid under my feet, but I was not above them. No, my spirit was being dragged at my heels. It was as dead as the lifeless bodies in this cemetery.

I carried along the uneven ground, surrounded by the smell of death and flowers. I looked down at the lone flower that I carried in my right hand: a white rose, symbolizing innocence and purity. Tess was only 14, after all. Such a young age to pass away — she hadn't had long enough to make her own mistakes and learn from them. The biggest mistake she'd made was one she couldn't learn from, couldn't come back from… ah, there it was.

 _._

 _Toujours dans nos pensées, pour toujours dans nos coeurs_

 _Theresa Montclair_

 _1987 - 2001_

 _._

I traced the letters of her name with my finger, softly humming our song. The base of her headstone was covered with white roses, much like the one in my possession; they were her favourite flower, after all.

Beginning a pure white and fading into a soft yellow at the heart, the petals were fragile and velvety. The leaves were a shade lighter than the stem, which was littered with thorns.

I crouched down in front of the stone and moved to place the rose on it.

"Ouch," I hissed, dropping it neatly onto the dirt. A sharp stinging was coming from my finger — it felt like a bee sting, or a paper cut, or even like getting a flu shot; in reality, it was from an especially sharp thorn, and my carelessness to top. I brought my finger closer to my face to inspect it and steadied it with my left hand.

Blood was pooling at the cut, the dark red a striking contrast to the white of my skin. It was… strangely beautiful, in a way. I gently squeezed my finger, and the blood trickled down my hand, onto the earth.

No, that wasn't where it had landed. A single petal, once the colour of milk or fresh snow, was now stained with red: darker in the middle and fading into white, like the effect of rubbing alcohol on sharpie marker.

I stood and picked the rose up between two fingers, wary of its thorns, and brought it to my nose.

And immediately dropped it.

The floral scent was mixed together with what I identified as rust… and salt. Ever since that day I had always hated the smell of blood. I looked back up at my finger and felt myself get a little lightheaded, when I heard a tree branch snap behind me, followed by even footsteps. I whipped around, face to shoulder with a little boy, his eyes filled to the brim with acrid sadness.

He walked up to me silently, reaching into his backpack, and then grabbed my bloody handy. He carefully wiped away the blood, sanitized the cut, and wrapped it in a Pokémon band-aid. I gave him a watery smile in return.

"Thanks Jake." He grinned sadly.

"Like you always taught me Bells," he replied. I chuckled humourlessly — he was right. I'd lost count of how many times I'd done this for him, since he had no one else to do it for him.

I slipped my hand into Jacob's little one. With his free hand, he reached into his backpack again and pulled out 11 white roses, laying them down beside mine on her grave.

"Hope you like 'em, Resa." He smiled at the ground, tears silently pouring down his face. "Hope you love 'em." I squeezed his hand.

"I'm sure she loves 'em, Jakey, I'm sure she loves 'em."

* * *

I felt the weight of light press against my closed eyelids and groaned, squeezing them tighter in a vain attempt to rid myself of the steady-forming pressure at the back of my head. I could hear people arguing what couldn't be more than five feet away and the familiar sound of beeping from a heart monitor. Definitely familiar.

Instead of trying to sit up or open my eyes, I did what I saw in every movie I'd ever seen with a hospital scene; I shut my eyes tighter and pretended to be asleep, hoping they wouldn't notice, and listened in to their conversation.

The buzzing in my ears was clearing up, and I could hear them speak more clearly now.

"Malnourished? Are you sure?" the frantic voice of my mother filled my ears. "She's been normal all week, though!"

"The numbers don't lie, Miss. Are you sure she hasn't been acting strange?" Who I presumed to be the doctor paused for a moment and then spoke, this time lowering his voice so I couldn't make out every word. "Sure…she…sad? Maybe…incident…medical history…?"

"Not again," my mother whispered. "Please, not again."

My heart rate increased, and so did the speed of the heart monitor.

"She's awake…"

I felt my mother's presence by my side not long after, and she grasped onto my hands tightly. I opened my eyes and groaned again as the light hit me straight in the eyes. Who decided to put lights on ceilings again?

"Hey mom," I croaked, my voice hoarse. I coughed. "Water, please." She handed me a bottle and helped me sit up. "Thanks."

As I tried to unscrew the cap, I felt something pulling at my arm and looked down to find an IV. I looked at my mother questioningly, although I had a good guess.

"You're malnourished. Not to mention thin to the bone, and then some. What happened, Bella?"

I opened my mouth to speak, and then I closed it again. How was I expected to respond to that? Would an 'I don't know' suffice?

"I don't know, mom." She gave me a look — apparently it wouldn't. I sighed heavily, trying to form a sentence in my head. "I guess-"

"Signs point to anorexia or depression, Miss." The doctor stated, flipping through papers on a clipboard. What was next, a pencil behind his ears? "It could be extremely serious, mentally or physically, or maybe even both."

"No offence, Doc, but last time I checked, you weren't a psychiatrist." He gave me a dirty look.

"Correct, that is not my medical field, but I can assure you that I am rightly qualified to make that claim, _Ms. Swan_. Also, my name is Dr. Reeds, not Doc." I huffed and leaned back against my headboard.

"Well, _Doc_ , I can assure _you_ that I am neither anorexic nor depressed, and so your services are no longer required. Thank you," I replied, slightly annoyed now.

"Bella!" reprimanded my mother. "I'm sorry doc- I mean, _Dr. Reeds_ , about my daughter. She's not usually like this."

"Well…" he muttered, taking a pencil out from behind his ears and scribbling something on his clipboard. There we go. "All the more worrying, I'm afraid."

After a ton of convincing and strict directions on how to get the nutrients that I needed, I was discharged from the hospital and we headed home.

"Bella, you know we need to talk about this," Renee said to me as she pulled out her keyring and unlocked the front door.

"I know — tomorrow, I promise. I'm going to hit the hay for tonight, okay?" She hesitantly nodded, and I kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, mom."

"Wait, Bella! Sleep with me in my room tonight, just in case?" I nodded at her and went up the stairs to the bathroom.

After brushing my teeth, I made my way across the hall to my room to get a change of clothes; I'd been wearing the hospital gown when I'd woken up, and the only other clothes I had with me were the ones from this morning.

When I left the bathroom, I could hear shuffling inside my room. Who was in there? I was pretty sure Renee was the only other person in the house…

I grabbed a hardcover from the coffee table nearby and tiptoed down the corridor, just to be safe, but when I saw inside, I dropped the book and it fell to the ground with a thud.

Inside my room was my mother holding, one in each hand, mine and Tessa's matching diaries.


	5. Painkillers

**My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter Five: Painkillers**

 _Inside my room was my mother holding, one in each hand, mine and Tessa's matching diaries._

She looked up at me, our eyes meeting. Hers were full of tears, and mine were full of… I couldn't really tell at the moment. Maybe concern, betrayal, anger, sadness, tears… all of the above.

The diaries could only be unlocked by one key, now that Tessa's was gone — the one I wore around my neck. Wait… I grasped at my neck only to feel emptiness and looked down to see my protruding collarbones, bare of any chains. "Mom… how, why?"

She looked unhappy about what she had done, but not guilty. "They had to take it off at the hospital," she said, her voice wavering. "I knew I'd seen it before." I took a deep breath and moved to sit beside her on my bed. She spoke again. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Renee rested her head on my bony shoulder and sighed along with me, running her fingers up and down my arms. Suddenly, she sat upright, stiff as a board, and grabbed my arm in her hands. I'd changed into a tank top and a pair of sweatpants beforehand, so my arms were bare.

My arms were bare… my bruises were exposed.

The tears spilled over her waterline, and she looked at me with utmost despair. "You too?" She cried, holding me to her chest like I had done three years back after the White Funeral.

I was livid. On top of that, I was tired, frustrated, and confused. My mind was all scrambled; I knew that this was not a logical reaction, but that didn't matter right then. It was like I had no control of my emotions. Of course, this lead to the irrational, hot tears and the uncomfortable knot in my throat that came along with them. I felt like I was being held by the neck, and my sadistic captor was slowly tightening their grip. I tried unsuccessfully to hold back the tears that were already pooling in my eyes, but all this lead to was a strangled grunt escaping from my constricted throat.

No, I wasn't angry at my mom. I was angry at Jessica, but mostly I was angry at myself.

It was in that moment that I knew that I couldn't stay here in Phoenix. My mom knew it too, actually. Of course, that didn't mean she would be happy about me leaving now, with her wedding to be planned, but it was for the best. For both of us, really. I would get away from everyone here, and she wouldn't have to worry about me getting myself into trouble.

I looked at my mother and pulled myself away from her iron grip as gently as I could.

"Mom," I said. "I have to go."

"I know, sweetie," she replied. "I know."

Then we held each other tightly, and I didn't go anywhere for the rest of the night.

* * *

Pulling my hair back into a messy bun and securing it with a grip, I rummaged around my room, searching frantically for the envelope that I had labelled _'Isabella Swan, Study Abroad Application'_. I tripped over my bag on the floor, and, hobbling on one foot to my desk, I tossed unimportant documents to the carpet in a frenzy. A grunt of frustration escaped my throat as I was unaccustomed to being unable to find something, but I'd just been cleaning my room — obviously, this meant that it was more of a mess than before.

I had five minutes before I could leave the house, and I was still wearing teddy bear pyjama pants with my white blouse. Not to mention, today was the last day that applications for the program in Italy were being accepted, and I had a full schedule today. There was no way I would make it in time.

"Need some help?" My mother's voice sounded from the doorway, and in her hand was a familiar sealed envelope. I sighed in relief and ran over to her.

"Thank you mom," I gushed, shooing her out the door so I could change. She chuckled on her way out.

She called to me before I shut the door in her face. "I'm glad that you seem better today, Bella, but you know we still have to talk about yesterday."

"I know, I know," I mumbled to myself.

Luckily for us, Arizona traffic was in our favour that day, and I had just enough time to stop buy the Admin's office before class, and since a had a second after dropping it off, I quickly picked up two cups of iced coffee since I'd had a tough night.

"Hey Bella," greeted Crystal. She really was a stubborn one, like Tess had been. I decided to entertain her ideas of friendship, at least until I left — that is, assuming I got into the program. I smiled at her, feeling more free than I had in a while at the thought of escaping. I was not harming her with my friendship, and what happened to Tessa wouldn't happen to Crystal. I would protect her.

"Hey Crystal," I replied, handing her a cup of coffee. "It's an iced. I'm just so sick of tea recently, and it's so hot outside for December, you know?" She took the cup and hummed at me in appreciation. We were definitely going through another heat wave. Heat was something I wouldn't be able to escape in Italy.

We walked to English Lit together, something I had been doing alone for far too long, discussing _'To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee,'_ the novel we were currently analyzing in class. The rest of the day mostly went like this, with Crys — as she demanded I refer to her — and I enjoying each other's company, at least until the final bell rang.

"Well well, looks like _it_ finally found a replacement for its dead coward-friend," a voice snarled from behind me. "Hopefully this one's less of a wuss. It'll be more fun that way." I turned around, Crystal following behind me, to find Jessica Walker with practically the entire female population of the school behind her. Her words rang in my ears, and I remembered the last time I'd had someone beside me to protect against Jessica. I'd promised to protect Tess, and now Crys, and I _would_ , no matter what it took.

"Stop, please just stop." Tears were welling up in my eyes at the thought of what she had done to Tess — what I had done to Tess by doing nothing. I wouldn't make the same mistake again.

A crowd of students was forming around us, no teachers in sight. I'd seen enough movies to know how these kinds of things ended for the good girls. Maybe that was it, maybe I _had_ to be the bad girl…

"What's the problem, _Izzy_?" She smirked at me, knowing that I hated when people called me that. I huffed; I could practically feel smoke coming out of my ears. _Be the bad girl, Bella. Make Tess proud, Bella. You got this._

"You're the problem, skunk. I think I might be allergic to your cheap perfume." Adrenaline was pumping through me — the last time I'd done something like this had been the first time, when Tess and I had stood up for ourselves. That was when I'd thought they'd gotten tired of us, but _no —_ they'd only made Tess their new target and left me alone. All the while I had no clue. That wouldn't happen again.

The spectators were getting rowdy, like Phil did when he watched a game on our TV — I'd know, he does it a lot. Jessica was getting quite angry, too. She took a step towards me, and I whispered for Crystal to leave. I didn't think I could handle it if someone else got hurt because of me.

Of course, Crystal didn't move an inch and merely whispered, "I'm not leaving you here."

Somehow, Jessica heard Crys and snickered. "How cute, the wannabe artist sticking up for her little pal. Hope you know she'll probably end up getting you killed, you little witch."

"At least I don't let people walk-ER all over me just so they'll 'entertain' me, Miss Jessica W," Crystal replied, placing her hands on her hips.

"As if they'd want to walk over you."

"I'll cut a witch-"

"UGH!" Jessica stomped her heeled foot, creating an echoing click that resounded through the yellow hallway. I stifled a giggle, only to see Jessica's face wind up in insurmountable rage. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a bunch of people holding up cameras to capture the little duel, which would no doubt be online by tomorrow. I decided to just end this civilly, so that it wouldn't hurt my chances of getting admission into that program.

"Look, Jessi-"

She stomped over to where Crys and I were standing and stared me down, clasping onto me with her claw-like, freshly manicured hands. I could feel her nails tear through my shirt and into the skin of my shoulder, stinging as they drew blood. I could smell it before I saw it, but it was definitely there. Tears filled my eyes at the sharp pain.

"I shouldn't have even had to waste this long of my time on you _worthless_ things," she sneered, seemingly drunk on fury. "Now I _will_ make it worthwhile, even if it's the last thing _you_ do." She paused, glancing at Crystal. "You _and_ your friend. Maybe you should've listened to it, you stubborn brat."

She tossed me against the nearest wall, causing me to hit the back of my already-injured head on the window frame of the empty reception desk's window. I could feel my old stitches rip open and pour out blood, but I was more worried about Crystal.

Through my blurring vision I could see her get thrown to the floor, and then I saw a pool of red spew from the middle of her forehead, which she had hit on the tiled floor. No! I said I would protect her! Why hadn't she listened to me before? After that, I saw Jessica approaching me with her clones, and the last things I felt were a snapping sensation spreading through my left ankle and a piercing blow to my exposed ribs.

Everything went black.

* * *

For the second time in three days, I woke up to white walls and incessant beeps. This time, however, I didn't try to pretend I was asleep — I needed to know what had happened to Crystal.

My eyelids flew open to the blinding light above me, but I just kept staring at it until purple spots covered my vision. I moved to sit up, as my throat was parched and I needed water, but as soon as I did, my back hit the bed again with twice the force I had used to get up. My head was pounding, my shoulder stinging, my ankle likely broken, and my ribs on fire.

"Mom?" I whimpered, my voice drowned out by the loud sound of my heartbeat, hoping to find her relieved face sitting in the bedside chair. She was not there, instead I could hear her voice from where I assumed was just outside the door.

"Please, Billy," I heard her plead. "Just ask him. I'm sure he would love to spend some more time with her, since… you know. Just… ask him again. He'll do it if he loves her at all. Fine, I'll wait." She tapped her foot on the ground to the beat of my heartbeat. "Yes? Oh, thank goodness. Alright, bye now Billy."

My thoughts were swirling, and my head was hurting immensely now. Was she talking to Billy, Billy Black? Was… was Jacob coming to see me? I still needed to know about Crystal too, but there was only one way to get my mother's attention. I pressed the red 'Nurse Call' button and it made a loud beeping noise, to which my mother promptly ran into the room with a nurse.

"She's awake. That's good." The nurse scribbled something down before asking me what was wrong.

"My head — it hurts."

"Yes, you have a concussion, a fractured ankle, and a couple of bruised ribs — none were broken, luckily. Would you like some painkillers?" I winced and turned her down. Painkillers were never an option anymore.

The nurse helped me sit up — propped against the bed, of course — and gave me a glass of water to soothe my aching throat and stay hydrated.

"How long have I been out?" I asked as the nurse made me lay down again.

"Two days, Bella," Renee responded, sighing. "We got the results back from the program." Thoughts of her phone call drifted from my head at the excitement of her announcement.

"Really? Did I get in?" She sighed again, nodding. Why was she upset about that?

"Mom, you look upset."

She walked up beside me and held my hand. "I just don't want you to be alone right now." Oh… "That's why I've asked Billy to send Jacob with you."

What?

"What?" I asked, immediately sitting up, to the discontentment of the nurse. "Jake's coming with me? What about school?"

"His school on the Reservation has the same program going on for next semester as a way of, how did Billy put it, 'inducing the phasing'? Strange one he is. What he meant was, the school wants them to become more open to other cultures, I think."

Now that one question was answered, I had to ask the other one. "What happened to Crys?"

There was a moment of silence in the room as Renee and the nurse exchanged a glance.

"Crystal's just gotten out of surgery, sweetheart, but she'll be okay. One of her ribs broke and collapsed her lung, and she had a more serious concussion; they think she might have some memory loss." What? How did a group of three or four girls do something like that to her? I thought back to when we were at school — there were so many people in the crowd. Would they… would they have joined them? Most likely, under the circumstances.

I said I would protect her.

I said I wouldn't let her get hurt like Tess.

I said I wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

"Bella? Are you alright?" I nodded absentmindedly. I didn't want to worry my mother more than I already had, so I blinked a few times to clear my head and turned to her when she spoke again. "You can go see her once you feel a little better and your ribs heal up."

The nurse looked up from her computer, where she was looking at some x-rays. "Speaking of which, I'll go and get you an ice pack for those. They should heal quicker if you apply some cold to them." She promptly left the room in search of an ice pack.

"Actually mom, I don't think I should go see her," I replied, playing with my fingers. "I don't think she would want to see me."

My mother immediately looked worried, which was something I was trying to avoid. "What, why? Sweetie, this wasn't your fault. Jessica was suspended — should've been expelled, but her father probably payed off the school…" I sighed to shush her, and she glanced at me, repeating in a small voice that I wasn't to blame. As if.

"I know, we just had a little argument beforehand," I lied. What she didn't know didn't hurt her.

Renee tried for a while to convince me, or at least get some more information on what happened, but I just told her I was tired. "You should be too, mom. Get some sleep," I said. She argued, but ultimately agreed on the condition that she would sleep on the chair in my room.

Not long after she fell asleep, my body began to ache worse than it had before. My ribs felt like they were rubbing against sandpaper, and my head was burning like I had smashed it into an iron wall. Luckily for me, the nurse returned soon with an ice pack. Quietly, so as not to disturb my snoring mother, I told her that I had reconsidered turning down painkillers. She smiled at me, glad that I wasn't trying to bear the pain on my own.

"Here you go, honey," she said, preparing a syringe on the table connected to my bed. I turned away from her as the nurse injected a liquid into my IV. I stared at the white ceiling, wondering what would happen next, before slowing falling into a deep sleep.


	6. Sunrise in Tuscany

**My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter Six: Sunrise in Tuscany**

Sitting on my bed by my open suitcase, I inspected my room for anything I could've neglected to pack. Novels for the flight? Clothes? Painkillers and prescription just in case? Check, check, and check. I stepped off my bed and wandered over to my vanity, taking a look at my reflection. My cheeks were fuller than before, and I looked alive. My hair was still a tangled mess, though. I ran my hands along the vanity, looking for my hairbrush, when I felt something sharp dig into the palm of my hand. Looking down, I realized that is was the key. I looped it back through the chain around my neck where it belonged, resting lightly on my collarbone to remind me of its presence, of _her_ presence.

I crouched down, balancing myself on the backs of my knees, and yanked at the sticky bottom drawer. After being left unopened for years until recently, the wood was clearly audible and high-pitched, so much so that I had speculated about how Renee had managed to get it open it without me hearing. Inside were the two diaries that I had seen a lot of lately, and I picked up Tessa's with hesitant hands. I shut the drawer with my foot, but I was only able to close it halfway. Strolling to my bed, I gently packed the diary in between the folds of one of my shirts and zipped up the suitcase, sitting on it once I had closed it. I sighed.

"Bella," my mother's voice called from downstairs. "Are you ready to go?" I yelled back with a quick 'I'm coming,' and stood from my bed, dusting the non-existent dirt off my jeans. I bid a quick farewell to my room and dragged my suitcase down the stairs, trying to avoid any scratches on the clean-cut wood.

I found Renee waiting at the bottom of the staircase for me, ready to help me with my bags. "Wow mom, I'm usually the first one down when we have to go somewhere." I joked, trying to bring some humour into a day which would obviously hold some tears of goodbye. She wasn't laughing, instead her eyes were filling up already. My brows scrunched up in worry. "Mom? What's wrong?"

She pulled me into a hug. "Bella, I'm so sorry," she cried. I hugged her back, but I didn't understand what she was talking about. Renee pulled back so that she could look into my eyes. "I'm a horrible mother."

I tried to cut her off there, but she wouldn't let me. "Just let me talk, Bells. All this time, you've been raising yourself — what with my relationships and my random crazes. If I'd been paying attention, none of this would have happened — the bullying, the malnutrition, even… that thing with Tess. You, my daughter, landed yourself in a hospital because I was too caught up in my life to realize that you had an eating disorder. I'm so sorry," she said all in one breath, tears running down her face. My mouth hung open for the entirety off her mini speech, but once she finished talking, I pulled her to me and comforted her.

"Mom, none of this is your fault," I told her, rubbing her back. She wiped away her tears and gave me a weak smile. "I never thought I was too fat, mom. It disgusts me what my body became, and I'm glad that it's getting better. I guess I just felt like everything was getting way to out of control, and not eating was the only thing I could do at my will. I should be the one saying sorry — I was dumb, and an idiot, and I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"You're doing it again," she whispered, laughing humourously. "I should be the one comforting you. I can't believe you're missing Christmas and New Year's."

I frowned. "I think we both know it's for the best. Besides, I'll have Jacob with me, and I promise we'll video chat."

This seemed to console her, and she smiled a genuine smile, much to my relief. I was happy, so there was no reason that she shouldn't be. Why I was happy I didn't really know — only a week ago I'd been in the hospital. Then again, I was finally getting out of a toxic environment that I'd been in for years now, and I was looking at the positives. I was actually going to Italy to study abroad and experience a new culture, along with meeting new people. I was feeling better physically too, although the nurse had told me to go easy on the partying. As if I'd actually go partying willingly.

"Promise you'll email?" Renee asked. I locked my pinky in hers.

"Pinky promise. I love you, mom."

Phil's voice flooded the living room as he yanked open the front door from outside and called to us. "Come on guys! I love you both, but we've got a plane to catch." Phil had volunteered to drive us to the airport as we wouldn't be seeing each other much — probably not until their wedding in Mexico, which Renee was doing a pretty good job planning. Then again, she'd been planning it since she met him, or so she says.

"Alright Phil, we're coming in a sec," she called back. He muttered something jokingly about women taking a long time before shaking his head, chuckling and closing the door behind him. "You ready to go, sweetie?" I smiled and nodded, taking one of my suitcases in my hand while my mother took the other. Just as Renee and I were about to get in the car, I froze.

"Wait," I called out as Phil piled my two suitcases into the trunk. "I forgot my cactus." Both of them groaned, but I guessed they were secretly amused at my fondness for the plant. I ran back inside, my flip-flops slapping against the rocky driveway, and I grabbed the cactus by the reused pot I had plotted it in, which I had decorated with paint and lace back in third grade. "Okay, all good," I called again as I got into in the backseat, holding the cactus between my legs while I fastened my seatbelt.

"Finally," I heard Phil mutter as he climbed into the driver's seat.

"Patience is a virtue, my dear," my mother berated him in a cartoonish voice, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

"Is it, is it really?" Phil replied comically, nuzzling his face into her neck before starting the car and pulling out of the driveway. I smiled at their affectionate banter and leaned back into my seat, closing my eyes. I listened to their laughter and conversation for a while, but I soon proceeded to get lost in my own thoughts for the rest of the ride to the airport.

I was finally leaving, going to live in Italy with Jake.

What would Jacob look like now? Had he changed since last time I saw him? I remembered his boyish smile: white teeth against purple lips, purple lips against russet skin, and his chin and cheeks had a certain roundness to them that made him seem so childlike and innocent. I remembered the feeling of his warm hand in mine at the funeral; his heartbeat had been beating like a drum in his palm, which he had pressed firmly against mine, and it was like our heartbeats had merged into one.

After he'd left to go back to Washington, I'd shut him out completely. He couldn't know how Tess had really died — I'd told him that she'd peacefully died in her sleep. I made everyone else play along, too. There was no way Jacob would find out what had really happened to her: not now, not ever.

My suitcase banging against my seat pulled me out of my thoughts as we passed over a particularly large speed bump.

I glanced out of the rolled-down window at the streets of Arizona. Heat waves were visible in the air, making my eyes blur as I took in Phoenix's sandy sidewalks, cloudless blue skies, and mountains covered by clouds in the distance. The cactus in my lap suddenly weighed a ton, and I set I against my knee. The airport soon came into view, and it wasn't long before we were saying our goodbyes.

Phil helped me unload the suitcases as I faced Renee, dreading the look that I knew I was going to see on her face; she'd never been good with goodbyes.

"Bella," she began, doubt making its way to her features. "You don't have to do this. We can… we can find another way, and you can stay for the holidays, you can even invite Jacob if that's what you want!"

"I _want_ to go," I spoke quietly, afraid that the truth would hurt my mother.

She sighed. "I'm sorry, Bella. I'm being selfish. Tell Jacob I said hi."

"I will."

"I'll see you soon," she replied, but it seemed more like a question. Worry seeped through her voice.

"Don't worry about me," I begged, hoping this whole thing wouldn't ruin her wedding plans. "It'll be great. I love you mom," I said again, for what felt like the millionth time today.

"I love you too, sweetie," she whispered into my shoulder as she pulled me to her. I could feel her breathing in her chest for a moment, and then she let go. "Goodbye, Bella." Phil handed me my suitcases, and then they both turned and make their way back to the car.

"I'll see you soon, mom," I yelled to her, but by then she was already gone. I yanked my baggage across the gravel to the automatic doors of the airport with my cactus stuffed in a bag, and within an hour, I was on my plane.

It's approximately a twelve-and-a-half-hour flight from Phoenix, Arizona to Florence, Italy. After that excruciatingly long flight, I finally stepped off the plane and stretched my legs. It was around seven-thirty in the morning, and I was exhausted from lack of sleep — I didn't think I'd ever get used to the feeling of airplane seats against my back. Jacob had gotten here a couple of weeks ago so he could rent out an apartment for the both of us, since he wanted to keep an eye on me and couldn't stay in the same dorm as me, both because he was still a sophomore and because he was a guy. He'd told my mother that he would be waiting for me right outside the front gates.

Once I'd claimed my baggage, I dragged myself to the rolling doors by my tired feet and paused once I got outside. I leaned my suitcases against the side of the building and rubbed by eyes with my now-free hands, and when I opened them, there was a lovely sight for me to see in front of me.

The sun was peeking out from behind Italian mountain ranges, showering the city of Florence with light. I could see dome-shaped buildings and other stunningly beautiful architecture, and the array of colours along with the clouds that flooded the sky were a pleasant change in scenery to Arizona's clear blue. As I admired the view from just outside the airport and wondered what I would see further into the city, the pressure of a hand formed on my shoulder, and a familiar voice filled my ears like music.

"Beautiful, isn't it? Or 'Bella', I should say, since we _are_ in Italy," he whispered in my ear. I turned around, but his shoulders greeted me, since he was so much taller than me now. I lifted my head and looked into his eyes.

"Jake," I breathed, throwing my arms around him.

"Bella," he repeated. We stayed like that for a while, before I hit his back. He pulled away and looked at me. "What?"

"That was a smooth line, dude," I said with as serious a face as I could muster up in that moment, before we both burst out laughing like we'd never even been apart in our lives.

"It was, wasn't it." Our laughter muffled his reply. It could have been mine or his words that made us laugh, but either way I was perfectly content; well, as content as I could be with as little sleep as I'd had. As our laughter died down, I felt my eyelids droop against my will.

"Oh, the flight must have made you tired," he realized, reaching for my suitcases. I smiled lazily in thanks and followed him to the taxi that he had waiting for us to get to our apartment. I didn't really remember much of that ride, just falling asleep in the back seat on Jacob's shoulder.

When I woke up, I was on a bed in where I presumed was my new room. Jake must have carried me there instead of waking me up after we arrived like I'd thought he would. He must have had a growth spurt or something since the last time we'd seen each other, because that little boy was no longer a little boy. He wasn't overly muscular or extremely tall or anything — it didn't take much for anyone to be taller than my 5"4'. His hair was still past his ears like I'd always remembered it, maybe even as long as up to his shoulders now. He'd been wearing it in a pony-tail to keep it away from his face at the airport.

I pulled the covers off myself to see that I was still in my clothes from this morning — wait, what time was it now? There were no clocks in the room, and I still hadn't adjusted my cell yet. I got out of bed and walked over to my suitcase, seeing my cactus on top. I quickly placed it beside the open window which was shining with sunlight. It was in the morning, still.

I made my way outside my room to the hallway to look for him. "Jacob?" I called, taking in the patterns of the apartment. Logically, if I'd slept for around two hours, it would have been around… ten in the morning. Jacob was probably in the kitchen making himself breakfast. After not much effort, I found the room — the place wasn't too big, seeing as we were the only ones who were paying rent, and we couldn't afford anything bigger.

As I neared the room, the smell of smoke started faintly appearing in the air. Oh no — smoke was coming from the kitchen. Rushing to make sure Jake was okay, I ran into the room, only to hear the sounds of Jacob humming as he held a pan on the stove.

"Jacob!" I yelled to get his attention, as the pancake in his pan was turning black.

"Oh, hey Bells. I'm making pancakes, want one?"

I ran over to him and pulled the pan away from the stove, turning the burner off and waving my hands over it so that it wouldn't set off the fire alarm.

"My goodness, Jacob, have you never seen smoke before?" He looked at me confused, before looking at the charred pancakes. A line formed on his forehead.

"Oh," he realized. "That's why it didn't look like the one on the box." I groaned and hit myself on the forehead.

"Let me cook," I decided. I'd cooked for Renee since forever, and I could cook for Jacob now. He frowned and gave me his puppy dog eyes.

"Whaaaaaat? I wasn't _that_ bad," he whined. I gave him a pointed look, and he sighed. "Fine. Will you at least teach me how to cook? Billy's gettin' tired of Harry Clearwater's fish fry." I nodded, and he smiled a toothy smile at me and pulled me in for a hug. I guess some things never change.

"I missed you, Bella," he whispered into my ear. "So much."

"I missed you too, Jakey. So much."

And I would miss sunrise in Tuscany, too.


	7. Christmas Tree & Almond Tree

**My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter Seven: Christmas Tree & Almond Tree**

"Grazie," I hummed, blowing on my cup of steaming hot chocolate as Jacob handed the man on the stool a 10 euro banknote, offered for him to keep the change, and exchanged pleasantries, all in flawless Italian. My breath created a ripple in the cream design, the extraordinary fragrance of freshly melted chocolate wafting to my nose, filling all of my senses with complete and utter bliss. Hot chocolate in Italy really is the best hot chocolate.

"Come on Bella," Jake huffed, his breath forming a translucent mist in the air. "Let's go see the Christmas tree."

I grinned in agreement, wanting to see the rest of it. From where we were standing, in the middle of the Christmas market in Piazza del Duomo, we could only see the brightly-lit star that was sitting atop green pines, showering the night of the city with a yellow glow. The moon was invisible behind thick clouds, but the absence of moonlight was made up for by an abundance of twinkling lights that festooned Florence's streets. I tugged my beige fur-hooded coat tight around myself and re-adjusted my decorative scarf — it wasn't too cold, but it was cool enough that taking a sip of my hot chocolate felt heavenly. Jacob tasted his own drink, wrapped an arm around me and hummed in contentment.

In the distance, I could hear carollers belting out their traditional hymns and spreading their contagious Christmas spirit. We made our way down Piazza del Duomo, the Cathedral Square, stopping every now and then to check out a stall, leaving our bootprints in the filmy layer of frost that covered the pavement below our feet. Our only guide to follow was our prior knowledge of the city and the plastic star that was steadily growing larger as we approached our destination. I'd only been in Italy for two weeks now, so my knowledge of the twists and turns of its streets was limited.

It was Christmas night, and I had taken a day off from the bakery that I'd been working at. I wasn't a waitress — I knew from previous experience that I was not at all coordinated enough, not to mention I could hardly order a dish in Italian much less take an order — but instead I had convinced the owner, with Jake's help, to let me bake a couple batches of pastries every few days for a decent pay. My half of rent had to be payed somehow, and Jacob had already landed a job at a local garage by impressing the owner with his advanced skills in mechanics. Business there was a little slow though, Jake told me, as Florence was a walking city if anything. They did get a few motorcycles every now and then, however, as they were cheaper and easier to maneuver through the narrow streets of Italy.

"So," I began, my voice filling what little silence there was that had escaped the sounds of the city. "Merry Christmas."

He smiled down at me, his eyes full of pure happiness. "Merry Christmas, Bells." He continued, without thinking it seemed, "I can't even remember the last time we spent a Christmas together."

As soon as his words faded into silence, there was a pause between us that seemed to hang in the air. We both remembered the last Christmas we'd spent together — Jake, Tess, and I in Forks, Washington, four years ago. He'd smiled up at her with his toothy, boyish grin as they made mud pies together in the rain, and I'd taken pictures with my ancient camera that I'd gotten as a Christmas present. They'd exchanged gifts, and Jake had made sure to get her an extra one because she'd always hated getting the same present for Christmas and her birthday, which was only two days after.

My breath caught in my throat as I remembered, and I deterred my gaze from his eyes. I couldn't go down that road today, on _Christmas_ of all days. Blinking back any tears that had risen, I reached into the pocket of my coat and pulled out a little box, wrapped in holiday-themed paper with a red bow on top.

"Here," I whispered, afraid that my voice would betray my emotions. "Merry Christmas." I repeated the two words, but the atmosphere of our conversation had shifted since before.

He pulled his arm from around my waist so that he could take the present from my mitten-clad hand. "Thank you," he whispered back. "You really didn't have to."

"You gave me one," I argued, thinking about the book he'd gotten me. _Quileute Legends,_ the cover had read as he'd handed it to me, saying something about how I'd taken an interest a couple of years back.

"You're right, you did have to." He maintained a straight face as he said this — for all of ten seconds. The intensity of the atmosphere was lifted as we both let out small chuckles that soon escalated into full-blown laughs. He calmed down and stuffed the box into his back pocket. "I'll open it when we get home." He wrapped his arm around me again, this time pulling me towards him. " Is that okay?"

"S'okay with me," I mumbled into his jacket, leaning my head on his chest, before remembering why we'd come here. "Let go o' me, Jake… I wanna see the Christmas tree." His chest vibrated as he chuckled, and he pressed his face into my hair for a moment before letting go of me.

He motioned in front of us and grinned. "That one?"

My gaze flitted upwards at his gesture and my jaw hung open — in front of us was Piazza del Duomo's own Christmas tree in all of its glory. The tree towered above the citizens below, barely shorter than the grand Cathedral behind it. I had to crane my neck to see all of it, and from top to bottom it was decked out in decorations. Red cross-shaped ornaments hung on its branches, blue lights draped around it like curtains, and there were families scattered around the trunk, taking flash pictures and singing off-key carols. Jacob placed his hand on my shoulder, and I turned to face him.

"It's so beautiful," I said, picturing all of my Christmases in Phoenix. We had plastic trees every year, and whenever we went outside, sweat would tickle our necks. This was an absolutely different world. Sure, I loved Christmas with my mother and whoever she happened to be dating at the time, but this was just like in the movies. Coats and mittens, hot chocolate, huge tree, amazing best friend… it was almost too good to be true, but I knew it wasn't. This was real.

"It is, isn't it." Jacob's chocolate-black eyes locked with mine. "It's very beautiful." We shared childish grins — I could feel mine in my temples.

My life had gone from tears in the bathroom to unbelievably perfect, and I couldn't have been any happier.

We broke apart when a bulky hand came to rest on Jacob's shoulder with the intent of gaining his attention, causing him to turn around and face its owner. He was a tall man, rising above my 5"4' by at least a foot, with a well-built figure and caramel skin. Under cropped black hair, his mature features were familiar to me, but I couldn't quite pinpoint a name, although I was certain I'd seen him before. I glanced at Jake's face to gauge his reaction, hoping that the man was one of his friends. His countenance remained cautious.

"Sam," he greeted with a polite nod in his direction. At the mention of his name, memories flooded my brain — Sam Uley, from the reservation back in Forks. What was he doing here?

"Jacob," Sam replied. "And Bella. How lovely to see you again." His voice was not pleasant but a little friendlier, yet full of authority and emotion. "Listen, Jacob, a bunch of us are heading down to Volterra to _check out the shops_ again," he explained, his eyes darting to me before focusing back on Jake. "And you need to come with us this time." Jacob eyed him warily and nodded without question. Sam Uley clearly had power.

"Sorry Bella," Jake spoke softly in my ear. Then he raised his voice and directed it at Sam, "When are we going?"

Sam's eyes narrowed at our one-way exchange, but he replied as per usual. "Tomorrow night, six o'clock sharp at the train station. Be there, Jacob _._ " There was a strict finality in the way he spoke that left both of us in silence as he walked away, his indirect message to Jacob crystal clear: don't bring the girl.

Jacob huffed in irritation and ruffled his hair, a crease forming on his forehead. "Bella," he began, turning to face me but keeping his gaze from my eyes, "I'm sorry."

I frowned at him. "Why are you sorry? You don't have to be with me 24/7 — it's not like something bad will happen to me if you're gone for a day." I lowered my head and muttered under my breath, "Why does everyone think I'm so breakable?"

"We should hurry if we want to catch the train back to our apartment," Jacob warmed his hands by rubbing them against his cup of hot chocolate. "You'll be too tired for the ride back if we leave later, and there won't be any hotel rooms free during the holidays."

I nodded, and we made our way down to the train station, the sudden tension in the air visible through clouds of cold air. I could already feel myself getting drowsy, in spite of the fact that it couldn't be past nine o'clock, and I supported myself against Jake's arm as he pushed open the station doors. Sure, he wasn't the softest pillow, but he would do for now.

The train station was bustling with people, as it should have been on Christmas night. Despite the bothersome voices and noises of trains, I shut my eyes, my consciousness crawling away from me; I blamed it on jet lag. Short puffs of air pressed against my ear and a voice followed soon after.

"Bella," Jacob breathed, the warm air performing as makeshift earmuffs. "Try to stay awake, please."

"Hmm." My eyelids kept getting heavier, fighting against the force of my mind; however, all it took for them to shoot open were his next words.

"For the record, I don't think you're breakable. I'm just doing my job, and that's to protect you."

* * *

The sun disappeared beneath the horizon, casting a yellow glow throughout the city of Florence; it was twilight, my favourite time of day. I sat cross-legged on my bed, arms resting on the headboard as I looked through the window. The sound of the door slamming as Jacob left for the station still echoed through the otherwise-silent apartment, in the face of the fact that he'd been gone for at _least_ a half hour, and the comforting presence that I had grown accustomed to seemed to have been ripped from me. And, despite everything I said to him last night, I already missed Jacob.

I reached for my cell and turned it on, the glow of the screen lighting up my face in the darkness of the room. I dialled my mother's number and held the phone to my ear. The phone rang three times before the line picked up.

"Hello, mom?" I bit my lip and ran my hand through the loose hairs that had fallen out of my hair tie, creating awry and uneven bangs.

"Isabella?"

My nose wrinkled in disgust at the mention of my given name, the name that held only unfamiliarity. "Phil, it's me. Bella."

He chuckled. "Hey, Bells. Sorry, Renee's a little busy."

"Doing what?"

I could hear tiredness in his voice and the way it sagged to the floor as he spoke, but it was also gentle, forgiving. "She's in the fitting room. We're at Almond Tree Wedding Boutique."

It wasn't hard to visualize the scene going on at the other end of the line. I could just imagine Renee, with her salesperson outside the fitting room, trying on dress after dress. All the while Phil would be waiting on the designated fiancé sofa in the corner with a group of soon-to-be grooms who were trying to come up with different ways to say "you look great," to the bridesmaids as they searched for their dresses.

I could hear him sigh. "My feet are killing me, worse than after baseball. This place had the best review online, so I was hoping…" His voice trailed off, and his breath audibly caught in his throat. "Wow, Renee…" I imagined my mother walking out from behind the curtains, wearing a lovely white dress.

But Phil was there! Wasn't the groom not supposed to see the dress until the wedding day? Bad luck, they say, and the couple can't afford any. "Phil? Are you still here?"

"Yeah. Here, I'll give Renee the phone." Static filled my ears — the scratchy noises that followed as Phil gave my mother the phone.

"Oh, Bella, I wish you were here! It's only tradition that the bride's maid of honour helps her chose the dress." Renee gushed.

"It sounds like you're having fun. Should I call another time?"

"Nonsense. I'll always have time for you. How's Jacob?"

I hesitated; should I tell her that he had gone to Volterra? No, she would only worry. "Great. He's helping me buy a ticket to Mexico for your wedding. By the way, have you finalized the date? I need to know when to book my flight."

She paused for a long while — too long to be good. "Bella…" she began, her voice cautious. "You might want to hold off on purchasing that."

I frowned. "Why? What happened?"

"I'm sorry, Bella, but I overestimated our budget. We're going to have to stay here in Phoenix. We won't have to wait until March, though — we moved the date to January 26."

Sea turtles, sand, clear blue water — yes, all of that was gone, but the worst part of all was going back to a place that reminded me of bad times over good, of bruises over movie nights, of tears over laughter.

All by the 26th of January. "Th-that's only a month away. Are you sure you'll be able to?"

"Sure, Bella. I'll have your dress ready for you when you come. Bye." The line was cut, followed by a long beep — one that could only remind me of the final signal of a heart monitor.

"Have fun at Almond Tree," I muttered, my words drifting down to the floor and slipping under, dying to the sound of the heart monitor's flatline.


	8. The Same Mistake

**My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter Eight: The Same Mistake**

Pink snowflakes landed on my fur-hooded coat, melting on contact. It was a shame; they were so beautiful, and I would have loved to get a chance to see how each one was different, but I guess this was the next best thing. I was sitting on a frigid, frost-lined bench outside the train station, waiting for Jacob to come home, and I was people-watching to pass the time — they were all different, after all, but definitely much slower to disappear. I'd been waiting outside for an hour in the least, but I wanted to be here when Jake arrived, especially since we hadn't parted on the best terms the night before.

I turned my face to the sky and lost myself in my thoughts.

Today was Tessa's birthday — the 27th of December, two days after Christmas and our encounter with Sam, and the day after Jacob and his friends from the reservation had gone to Volterra to check out the antique shops. It was one of the hardest days of the year for me to endure, and I was glad I had Jacob with me, but a part of me still hoped that he'd forgotten. It would be easier for him if he'd just forget, but I knew he wouldn't, and neither would I. Yes, I loved her as much as he did, but I didn't love her _like_ he did.

Jacob still didn't know the real cause of Tessa's death, and I intended to keep it that way. He hadn't questioned what I'd told him, because he trusted me, even though I didn't deserve it. Not only would it crush him to hear about her suicide, it would break the bond between us, too. So maybe I was selfish.

I sighed and looked down at my interlaced hands in my lap, squeezing them tighter together for an empty sort of comfort. It was cold outside, and the air was biting at my scrunched-up nose, but I couldn't bring myself to readjust the scarf that had fallen to my chin. I shut my eyes and leaned back against the railing.

It wasn't long before a warm presence sat beside me. I knew who it was before I looked — that was just the way we were. My eyes stayed locked shut, but a smile spread across my face as he smoothed out the wrinkles in my nose and pulled my scarf back up over it.

"You said you'd take care of yourself," he murmured, wrapping his arms around me. "You're cold."

"I'm not," I replied, my voice muffled by my scarf, and opened my eyes to see his confident grin staring right back at me. One more lie to add the tally, I thought. I frowned, and so did he.

"Let's go home."

Standing up and dusting the invisible snow of off my jeans, I took the lead, striding a couple of feet in front of Jake at a semi-quick pace. Unfortunately, speed and I have never had a mutual understanding, and I ended up flat on my backside in the crispy layer of snow that barely covered the ground. Jake's giggles filled my ears, and I rolled my eyes at his childishness.

"Thanks for helping me up," I grumbled, lifting myself up off the floor and carefully picking my way through the busy streets, still a solid foot ahead of the boy, but it didn't take him long to catch up to me. "Not fair. You have longer legs." It was true — he really had grown.

He smirked, strolling ahead of me, and I ran to catch up, but ended up tripping again; only this time, he caught me instead of letting me fall. He lifted me up, looking into my eyes soulfully. "Careful, Bells. I don't want to lose you too."

That was when I realized it, that he did remember. He remembered Tessa's birthday, and how he felt when he lost her, and all the emotions he felt for her when she was still alive. No matter how young we all were, I could see it. Jacob had been in love with Tess, and he was hurting. Badly.

He would never know the truth, I swore to myself. He would be crushed to the core, and he would hate me forever. He would blame me for her death just like everyone else.

It was tense, and it was as if we were both thinking the same thing; nothing good would happen if we didn't lighten the mood, and so I did — or at least tried to.

"So, how was Volterra? Did you guys find any souvenirs?" His eyes darkened, and he shook his head, letting go of me after I was balanced.

"No luck for us. It's probably just the wrong season — maybe we'll come back for Saint Marcus Day in March. Going the day after Christmas probably wasn't the best idea anyway." He walked briskly ahead of me again, muttering, "Thanks a lot, Sam."

I nodded, trying to keep up with him. "Good idea — going back in March, I mean. I hear it's a great festival."

Jacob muttered an incoherent response to that, and as we walked along the stone pavement to our apartment, neither of us said a word. The familiar building came into sight, and when we parted, it was as if a tension string that was tying us together had been broken. My bones were chilly, if not from the air then from the atmosphere of our interaction, so I dumped my winter attire and necklace on the counter and jumped into the shower, turning the water to the warmest my skin could handle.

With the soothing water running down my back, my body was relaxed, but my mind was racing. I thought back to Phoenix, to Crystal. I remembered the day she'd gotten hurt, and what had been going through my head at the hospital when I'd woken up:

I said I would protect her.

I said I wouldn't let her get hurt like Tess.

I said I wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

I turned off the tap and got dressed, deciding to make some pastries for Alessandro, the owner of the bakery. When I reached the kitchen, I saw my coat and scarf on the counter and realized that I'd forgotten to put them away. I picked them up all bundled together, and a silver string fell out from between the folds of my coat and hit the floor. Leaving my clothes discarded on the counter, I crouched down, balancing on the backs of my feet, and picked it up. The string was actually a silver chain, the only piece of real jewelry I owned. Tess had gotten it for me as a birthday present after I'd found out that I was allergic to nickel and couldn't wear fake silver. It must have cost her a fortune, but there was nothing but a smile on her face when she gave it to me. Now, as I held it in my hand, only one thing was missing from the string-chain: a key.

I'd made the same mistake twice.

"Jacob," I whispered to myself, horror-struck. Ignoring the pile of winter clothing on the kitchen counter, I ran down the hallway, searching for him. There was no doubt in my mind that he'd taken it, and if he found the diary, there was no way he wouldn't put two and two together and figure it out. I'd promised myself he would never find out.

Promises were useless, and they always would be. What's in a promise? Only my word against the world's, and the world always won. I'd promised Tess that I wouldn't do anything reckless, but I'd gone ahead and stolen by mother's liquor anyway. I'd promised Tess I would protect her, but I'd only gotten her killed. I'd promised Crystal I wouldn't let her get hurt like Tess, but she'd forgotten that along with everything else.

The door to my room was open, unlike how I left it. I always closed my door, maybe out of habit, or maybe my room was my personal chamber of secrets. When I looked inside, it was like déjà vu. There was Jacob, sitting on my bed, just like when my mom had found out, and he was holding Tessa's diary in his hands.

I'd promised myself that I would never let Jacob know the truth, but here I was. Here _we_ were.

He spoke without looking up from the page he was reading, the last page, with a strain in his voice. "I had to know the truth."

"How did you know?" I said, my voice coming out as barely a whisper.

"The first day," he replied. "I wanted to help you unpack. I saw it then."

I knew I should have been angry, or even upset with him at least, for taking the key or even going through my suitcase, but all I could feel was guilt. For keeping this from him, for letting him find out… for being myself.

I took a step towards him and placed my hand on his shoulder. "Jake…" He stood abruptly, throwing the diary on my bed and facing me.

"How could you do this to me?!" He shouted. "You knew how I felt about her, Bella!" He hid his face in his hands and whispered, "I loved her."

He looked so broken. Just like I knew he would. "This is why, Jake! This is why I didn't tell you! It hurts me to see you like this." And it did. My eyes were burning, my head was pounding, but most of all, my heart was aching.

Jacob glared at me. "So what? Honestly, I couldn't care less right now. Do you know what you did to me? You kept it a secret for the past three years that the love of my life killed herself!" He was livid, but he was choking on his sobs at the same time. So was I. He didn't care about me anymore. He blamed me for her death. He hated me.

"Jacob," I whimpered, reaching out for him. "Please…"

He pushed my arm away. "Goodbye, Isabella."

Isabella. He called me Isabella. Back when we were kids, I remember telling him about how I hated my given name, and how it seemed so unfamiliar, uncaring. He'd promised me he'd always call me Bells, like the "ringing things." He'd pinky promised.

"Where are you going?"

Jacob headed to the door. "I'm going to clear my head."

"Listen to me, Jake—"

"Jacob." That was a stab right in the heart.

" _Jacob._ I know you loved Tess, but you were just a kid. She wasn't the love of your life. You need to move on, or you'll be unhappy forever."

He turned around and looked me straight in the eyes, and with his last words, he was gone. "You're one to talk, Isabella."

He'd promised.

* * *

A week ago, I was excited to start school again. I wasn't worried about making enemies, since I had all I needed — I had Jacob. But now, I wasn't sure I had him. That night, he'd come home after twelve. I'd tried to stay up and wait for him, but I'd fallen asleep on the couch and woken up with horrible back pain.

Today, I was nervous. I wasn't one to obsess about my looks, but, even though I'd gained back some weight, I still wore a loose shirt to hide my unhealthy skinniness. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I was starting to feel what I used to: a strong desire to have control over something in my life. It felt like the only thing I had power over was not eating again. _No_ , I thought. I wouldn't fall back in. I would regret it more now than before. I wouldn't fall back in… but would it hurt to waver?

I tossed my bag over my shoulder and headed to the living room, where Jacob was sitting on the conch, putting on his socks. He turned to look at me and looked away without saying anything.

"Hey, Jacob." I greeted him as always and made my way to the welcome mat where my shoes were. Putting them and my coat on, I went to open the door.

"Not eating breakfast?" Startled, I turned around to see him looking at me, concerned yet hesitant.

I bit my lip. "Nah, not hungry."

"Bella—" He paused, a deep crease in his forehead, and shook his head, turning to put his books in his bag.

"We should go together," I offered. The best way to get around the city was walking, since it was less than an hour to get from one end of the city to another, and our school was less than fifteen minutes away by foot.

He didn't respond, so I left and shut the door gently behind me. The sun was out, and all of the snow was gone, but I still felt like there was a dark cloud over my head. My footsteps hit the ground as I walked, but they seemed to sink into it. I was so close to the ground.

Ten minutes went by in a second, and before I knew it, the school was looming over me. Made entirely of bricks and snaked with vines, the building seemed almost ancient. I followed the herds of students through the ominous, prison-like gate and into the front entrance.

Right as I walked in, a reception area caught my eye. Behind the desk was a small lady. "Benvenuto," she greeted me. "You must be an abroad student."

I smiled at her and nodded, responding with as much Italian as I could without embarrassing myself. "Sì. Mi chiamo Isabella Swan. Shall I have my professoressa sign something?"

Everything was going well, and I took my schedule and a stack of papers and headed off to my first class, putting the feeling I had this morning aside. The halls were filled with not one familiar face, and even though I knew Jake wouldn't be in my class since he was younger, I was nervous. I wouldn't know anyone, and I wasn't sure if I could trust myself to make another friend after what happened back in Phoenix.

My assigned classrooms weren't far from the entrance, and the classes went by so smoothly that by lunch, I'd forgotten why I was so nervous. After lunch, however, one thing was painstakingly clear.

It was happening again.

The bell rang at the end of my final class before noon, and I slung my bag over my shoulder, following my classmates out of the room and into the cafeteria. The room was buzzing with energy, the myriad of friends talking amongst themselves mushing into one sound, and I was starting to get a little anxious. I didn't know what it was, but the atmosphere made me lightheaded. Rubbing the back of my neck and wiping the sweat on my jeans, I decided to get out of there, and I whipped around, only to crash into a tall figure, who in turn wrapped his arms around me to stop me from falling.

"Bella?" He gasped, concern weighing down on his voice. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I whispered. "Thanks, Jake. You seem to be doing that a lot these days." He didn't correct my calling him Jake this time, but he didn't respond in any other way either. I gave him a sheepish smile that he didn't return and waved goodbye, walking past him in the direction that I assumed was the library.

"Wait, Bella." I turned around, and he was holding my arm. My gaze flitted from his hand to his eyes, and I looked at him questioningly. "Have you eaten since yesterday?" My eyes widened, my mouth popping open into an 'oh,' and I shook my head.

"No, I haven't. But it's okay, since I—"

"Isabella Marie Swan. My father sent me here to make sure you eat, and that's what I intend to do." His eyes were alight with determination and a hint of annoyance, but mine were full of anger.

"That's why you're here? Because your father wants you to be? I thought you at least cared about me a little, Jacob, but I guess I was wrong." By now, there was a crowd forming around us, and I didn't like it a bit. The last time I was at the center of a crowd, I'd ended up in a hospital. But Jacob wouldn't do that to me… would he?

Jacob looked around us at the gathering."Can we talk about this later?" he hissed. I nodded grudgingly and relaxed my tense fists, turned, and walked in the other direction.

The crowd began muttering rumours, the sea of students parting to let me though. I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in the handicap stall, curling up into a ball on the floor with my arms wrapped tightly around my knees. I was disgusted that I could have even thought that Jacob would hurt me. He was my best friend, even if we weren't acting like it. Maybe that was the problem, though. Maybe I just wasn't cut out to have friends. Maybe it would be the best for both of us if we weren't friends.

A slam of the door echoed through the room, followed by the chatter of a group of girls. I pressed myself against the wall of my stall, hoping that they wouldn't notice me. I could see through the bottom that they were leaning against the counter, and there were at least three or four girls.

"Sì, she was so brutta. I hear she was angry because he broke up with her. I don't blame him," one of them said. It was painfully obvious that they were talking about Jacob and I, and I couldn't help but listen, no matter how foolish it was.

Another one piped up. "She reminds me of a vampiro. You know the legends from the town close by, of the dead-looking woman who brings men to her castle to eat them alive." She made her voice sound mockingly spooky.

The girls laughed and offered their agreements, and I knew I couldn't let them know I was here now. I held back my tears and froze my entire body, waiting until they left to erupt in sobs — I wasn't so bad at Italian that I didn't understand what they were saying.

It was just the first day of school, but I could already see that this semester was going to be like the last. I couldn't escape them, could I? Even travelling half way across the world didn't make a difference — I would always end up crying in the bathroom. I remembered the last time.

 _I closed my eyes. Vampire… that was what they called me. Because of my pale skin… and my dark hair… and the bags under my eyes… and my colourless lips… and the baggy white clothes I wore, not just because of the heat, but also to distract from my paleness and skinniness._

No matter what I did, that was how I would always be. No matter how hard I tried to eat, or how much I slept, or how much I tried to change.

No matter what I did, I would always be a vampire.


	9. Cheers to Surviving

**My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter Nine: Cheers to Surviving**

"Mom, your hair looks beautiful. Stop worrying," I scolded, taking her hands in mine to prevent her from fussing with her hair. It was swept into an up-do, held together by grandma's clip. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, squeezing my hands.

"You're right," Renee replied, letting go of me and turning to look in the mirror where we shared a smile in the reflection. "You're right, and everything's fine."

I raised my eyebrows at her. "Mom, everything's perfect. We have Janice to thank for that." Janice was our wedding planner, as well as Phil's sister-in-law. She'd done a great job, but Renee was still sweating through her veil.

My mother's first wedding had been small, with only Charlie's parents and a few friends. Her father hadn't been there to walk her down the aisle, and her mother hadn't even responded to the invitation — there was no way either of them would be able to make it to this one either, since they both passed away when I was a baby. I guess she did have reason to want a perfect day this time, but her worrying was driving me nuts.

I could see it in her eyes; Renee was hoping that this time, she would have her dream wedding, and that was making her crazy. Like, Bridezilla crazy. And as her maid of honour, it was my job to make sure that she didn't wreak havoc among the streets of Tokyo, or in this case the streets of Phoenix.

"Miss Swan, we have a problem," Janice told me, peeking her head into the dressing room, a sheepish smile gracing her lips. She had a mousy voice and had a head of fiery red hair that was tucked up into a slick bun.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. "What is it this time, Janice? Stay here, mom, and I'll be right back." I turned to Janice. "Walk with me."

We strolled down the hall of the venue. "There aren't enough seats for everyone, Miss," Janice informed me, showing me a sketch on her clipboard. "Someone added a plus one at the last minute." I told her to speak with the owner of the venue, and she scurried off.

"My goodness," I mumbled under my breath, leaning against the wall and closing my eyes. Last minute wedding planning was more stressful than I would have imagined. One thing was for sure though — Janice was a life saver.

I was rudely awoken from my thoughts by an angry voice, dripping with fake sweetness. "Look here. _It_ actually had the nerve to show its face after what it did to me."

I snorted and responded without looking at her. "You sent me to the hospital."

"And you got me in trouble for sending you to the hospital."

Was she serious? I pushed myself off the wall and faced Jessica. "No, I got you in trouble for sending Crystal to the hospital. You could have left her out of this."

"Not like she remembers anyway," she replied, giving me a smug look. She knew that would get a rise out of me.

I clenched my fists at my side, wishing Jacob was here to stop me from doing anything rash. I didn't trust myself to not hurt her and make this all worse. "Who invited you, anyway? Definitely wasn't my mom or Phil."

She smirked. "Actually, I'm here with your friend as a plus one. What's her name again? Mystal, Rystal… I'd ask her, but I have a better chance of remembering myself."

"You'll shut up if you know what's good for you," I hissed through my teeth. Wait… Crystal invited her? Why would she? "So, did you spell her into giving you an invite or what?"

"Ugh!" Jessica stomped her foot on the ground childishly and glared at me. "You'll pay for what you did to me."

"Ha, you should be angry at your dad for only paying the school enough to keep you from getting expelled. Maybe donate a new gym and you'll magically stop failing beginner's math?"

She stepped closer to me, backing me up against the wall. "Listen to me, Swan. Unless you want that video of me beating you up to go viral and show how much of a weakling you are, you will do as I say and stop pretending that you're invincible. I hurt you once and I can do it again. Do you hear me?"

I knew she couldn't actually hurt me. She'd been suspended once already! All of the money in the world couldn't save her this time. But… if we weren't in school right now… then what would stop her?

I nodded, and she stepped away. "Good," she said, inspecting her nails. "We're on the same page."

"Jessica!" A voice called from behind us "Jess, we should sit. The ceremony's about to begin." I turned to where the voice was coming from.

"Crystal?" I gasped when I saw her; her face was caked in makeup and her hair was done professionally. She was wearing jewels and a short dress, not to mention stiletto heels on her freshly pedicured feet. She had become Jessica. "What happened to you?"

"Bella? Is that you?" Her brows were furrowed, as if she remembered me but not quite completely. I nodded, and a lightbulb seemed to go off in her head. "Jessica, this is the girl you told me about, isn't it? The one who sent me to the hospital and got you suspended by lying and saying you did it? The one who left for Italy because she couldn't make any friends here?"

My jaw all but hit the floor as Jessica nodded with a fake tear in her eye. "Yeah, that's her, Crys. Don't believe anything she tells you — she's a liar."

Crystal wrapped her arms around Jessica comfortingly and shot me a scowl. "Don't worry, Jess. Let's get out of here and go wreck her mother's wedding."

I grabbed her shoulder. "Don't you dare," I glowered. "Both of you, get out." They huffed, but did as I said. Jessica followed Crystal out, but not before whispering in my ear, "I'll be back." With any luck, she wouldn't be back until after the wedding.

Well, at least that solved Janice's problem.

Speaking of the wedding, I looked at the clock and realized that I was supposed to be helping my mother get ready. I rushed to the dressing room, trying to run in the heels that my mother had forced me to wear along with this purple dress. When I reached, I was shocked by the image of my mother looking back at me.

She was always beautiful, much more so than me, but today she looked like a true bride, blushing and all. I rushed over to her and was about to hug her, but stopped when I realized that it would ruin her dress.

"You look great mom," I complimented.

"You really do, Renee," said Janice from the doorway. "Or should I say Mrs. Dwyer?" They laughed together, and I smiled at them. My mother seemed so happy these days, much happier than before. Janice turned to me. "The bellboy called and told me two girls left the hotel. Said they had other _plans_? Whatever it was, solved our problem."

Renee turned to me. "Oh, Bella! Have you seen Crystal? I sent her an e-vite, but I haven't seen her since… before you left."

I shook my head. "Nope, maybe we'll see her at the reception. But anyway, we really should be taking our positions." I helped her up, and we made our way down the aisle.

The ceremony went smoothly after that, and before I knew it, I had a new step-dad. "Congratulations mom, Phil," I praised the newly married couple at the wedding reception, giving them each a hug — it wasn't easy to hug them, though, since they wouldn't release their hands. I took the bouquet from my mother so she would have at least one free hand and went to go find a vase for the flowers.

In the kitchen, I was filling up the vase with water when I saw what kind of flowers they were: a mix of pastel pink hydrangeas, angel leaves, and pure white roses. I was trying to move on, I really was, but every time I saw those roses, I thought of Tess, and now Jacob.

Jake had opted to stay home instead of coming with me to Phoenix for two reasons: first, my mother was as good at catching on as I was, and she'd definitely be able to tell that something had happened between us, and second, he wasn't feeling well. I wasn't sure what what wrong and neither was he, but his temperature was rising exponentially. That was why I decided to go back to Italy tomorrow morning. Even if we were fighting, I couldn't leave him alone if he was ill.

I stayed in the back for the rest of the reception until it was time for Renee and Phil to leave for their plane.

"Bye, mom," I whispered, hugging her. "I love you."

Her eyes were filled with tears — happy tears. "I love you too, sweetheart." She hugged me closer before pulling me away at an arm's distance, her arms still around me. "Hey, I'll see you soon." I nodded, a gut wrenching feeling ripping through me. But why? I would see her again.

"Bells! Say goodbye to your new stepdad!" Phil pulled me to him from behind and gave me a quick hug. I pulled away at arm's length and looked him in the eye.

"Phil, promise me you'll take care of her."

"I promise," he replied solemnly before ruffling my hair. I kissed his cheek and let go, waving goodbye as they made their way to Phil's car, _JUST MARRIED_ spray-painted along the side. Phil was irritated when he first saw it, but he gave up trying to be angry when my mother shot him a happy smile. Phil opened the passenger door for Renee before running over to his side.

"Wait, mom—" She shut the door and they drove off, my voice trampled by the music still playing from inside. Why did this keep happening? The airport, the phone call, and now this… "Have fun," I muttered to myself, taking my heels off and limping back to the venue to help clean up.

As soon as I stepped inside, I was taken aback. The place was a mess — broken wine glasses and spilt champagne, knocked over tables and chairs, flower petals everywhere. I followed the trail of petals to the kitchen, where I found a shattered glass vase and a scattered bouquet. The place hadn't looked this bad when we'd left, so someone must have trashed the venue while we were outside. Unfortunately, I'd offered to clean up on my own, since that was the cheapest option and we'd already spent so much on the venue.

I sighed and found a pair or rubber gloves in the cabinet under the sink — no use crying over spilt champagne — and I began picking up the larger pieces of glass to put in a dustpan.

"Hey," yelled someone over my shoulder. I yelped in surprise, dropping a broken wine glass on my foot as I looked up. She seemed genuinely sorry for scaring me, but when she lowered her gaze to the floor, she shrieked; the glass had cut my foot and was drawing unhealthy amounts of blood.

"Oh no," I whispered, feeling faint as the unpleasant smell of rust and salt wafted to my nose.

Crystal gasped and covered her mouth. "I'm so sorry! I'll call an ambulance, just… come on." Crystal pulled my arm around her shoulder and sat me down on a chair. "Wait here."

I shook my head. "Don't. I'll handle it. Just get me the first aid in my purse, please." I'd learned from previous clumsy mistakes and put a couple of bandage rolls and ointment in there. She grabbed it off of a nearby table and handed it too me.

"Are you sure? That wound looks pretty deep, Bella."

I gave her a watery smile, the pain cutting through me. "It's not the worst I've had. The glass wasn't lodged in my foot or anything, so I can probably handle it myself." While I disinfected and wrapped my foot, she grabbed a chair and pulled it up beside me. "Lucky I don't need stitches," I remarked, but regretted it when I saw the upset and guilty look on her face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking at the ceiling.

I shook my head again, even though she wouldn't see me. "Why'd you come back? To help Jessica trash this place?" She still wouldn't look at me. "Well, that's answer enough, I guess."

"She told me," Crystal murmured, finally turning to me. "Your mom. She told me about how Jess lied to me. I ran into her at the reception, and then I looked for you but you weren't there."

"Why would you believe her?"

She looked even more guilty. "I… I looked through Jessica's phone after, and I saw a video that someone had texted her, of- you know, the incident." Crys took my hand. "She's a witch." I smiled and remembered how she'd said the same thing when we'd done the lab together.

"Yeah, you told me that before, too. During the lab with Chemicals." We laughed together and fell into a comfortable silence. Crystal eyed the open bottle of wine on the table beside us and gave me a questioning look.

"Want a drink?" She asked, picking up the bottle and a glass. I thought for a moment — my mother was gone, and there was no one else around.

"Why not," I replied, taking the glass from her hands. She poured some of the devilish liquid into it and poured herself a drink as well.

"Cheers to surviving the past few months," Crys cheered, raising her glass in the air. I clinked mine against it and took a large sip. I'd only tried alcohol once before, three years ago, and I didn't exactly know how to go about it.

I wiped wine off my chin and stared at my reflection in the glass. "And hopefully to surviving the next few," I muttered, sighing and taking another swig.

Knowing my luck, not all of us were going to survive the next few months.

* * *

The shrill voice of the flight attendant blared through the intercom as we slowed to a stop at the gate, first in Italian and then English. I stuck a bookmark in the novel I'd been reading for the past couple of hours. I could have slept, but the middle-aged man beside me was drooling on my shoulder and the angry woman on my right was yelling angrily at the television in front of her in incomprehensible Italian. Sleeping on an airplane was something I'd never get used to, no matter how many times I travelled from Phoenix to Florence or vice versa.

Thank goodness for the sunny streets of Italy that greeted me on my way out of the airport. Oh, and the quaint little coffee shop beside my apartment. It was midday here, so I needed some caffeine to stay awake until nightfall. With a mind hyped up on coffee and two suitcases in my hands, I pulled myself down the long, colourful corridor that lead to my apartment and fumbled through my keys to find the one that unlocked the door.

"I'm back," I called, my voice echoing through the apartment. "You here, Jacob?" There was no answer, so I made my way to my room and threw my self onto my bed, face up, staring at the familiar ceiling. My back was aching from the flight, and the feeling of a bed behind me was luxurious. Unfortunately, it didn't last for long. My phone shrieked.

 _Come to my room. I need you — Jacob._

He was home? Why was he texting me?

 _What's going on, Jake? — Bells_

 _…_ _Just come._

I hauled my legs over the side of my bed and pushed myself up. Groaning, I trudged towards Jacob's room and knocked on the door, muttering under my breath. "God Jacob, I swear…"

"C-come in," his voice called, weak and quiet and a jab to my guilty heart. At first sight of him, I understood why he wouldn't speak: because he hardly could. His face was flushed and shone with sweat, and he had one leg wrapped around the blanket as if he were both hot and cold. He clutched his pillow to his chest, his head laying flat against the hard mattress and his phone discarded beside him. His half-opened eyes were swollen and red. He seemed so fragile, so unlike the Jacob I had left behind in Italy.

I approached him slowly; my hand hovered over his forehead and I could already feel the heat radiating off of him. I hesitated, as if touching him would make him disappear.

"What happened?" I whispered, taking a step back. "How did this happen? You just had a fever when I left…"

He responded by tilting his head towards me. "I'm sorry," he croaked, closing his eyes.

"For what?" I placed my hand on his forehead, pulled away and let out a scream. He was hot… too hot, like the top of a burning stove. He flinched and turned away, muttering the words again.

"That day… at school," he replied. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

Ignoring the stinging from his body heat, I gently pried his clenched hands off the pillow and placed it behind his head, taking one of his hands in my own. "You're forgiven, Jake. For everything." My face broke into a watery grin. "I can call you that, right?"

He cracked a tiny smile and opened his eyes, shooting me a sickly glare.

"I'll take that as a yes." A sharp breath escaped through his parted lips, and his eyes closed.

"Bella," he breathed, his voice far away. "I… I love you. You're my best friend."

"I love you too, you silly goose."

His fingers clutched the phone beside him tightly and then let go. "Call dad."

"I will." I smiled, gazing at him, when his body relaxed. "Jacob?" No response. I let go off his hand and rushed to his head, shaking his shoulders. "Jake? Are you alright? Jake…"

Nothing. He was gone. Jacob Black was gone.


	10. Transformations

**My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter Ten: Transformations**

My hands shook as I held the phone to my ear. "He—" I gulped. "He just… fell apart. Like all of his muscles relaxed at the same time." I worried my bottom lip, my eyes wet and glassy with tears.

I could almost hear Billy's frown over the phone. "Bella… I don't know how to tell you this," He paused, thinking before continuing. "He's… he's not—"

"I'm calling an ambulance." I interrupted, moving to hang up, when I heard him yell from the receiver.

"NO!" I froze at the cutting acidity in his voice, the underlying authority, and lifted the phone back to my ear. "Isabella, listen to me. Do not call the police. Leave the apartment—"

"What?" I cried out. "I can't and won't leave Jacob like this."

There was a moment's hesitation before Billy continued, like he'd been trying to decide on something. His voice was quiet, a warning. "He'll be fine. Leave _immediately_. You are not safe there, Isabella."

It was like with Sam on Christmas; I had to do what Billy said. It was as if he was controlling me, and I felt compelled to leave. "Ok," I hummed softly, followed by the dial tone of my cell.

I glanced at Jacob again. His face was no longer relaxed, and instead was suffused with pain. He was still unconscious, but his fists were clenched tight. Veins bulging out from his forearms, he seemed larger, more dangerous. It was as if he had been preparing himself before for this change, this… transformation. There was this feeling inside me as I stared down at him, an inexplicable one. It was a feeling that I could only put into words as being watched. Like he was watching me from behind closed eyelids, waiting for me to turn my back.

I swallowed hard, turned on my heel and ran for my bedroom, my heart racing in my chest and my stomach twisted around it. Grabbing a bag, I packed my belongings with trembling fingers. I sighed and threw open the door. "I'm so sorry Jake," I whispered, shutting the door behind me.

* * *

I had twelve-and-a-half hours to think about Billy's words, but all I could come up with was that it had something to do with Sam Uley. Back on Christmas, when he'd told Jake to go to Volterra with him and the other kids from the reservation, he seemed… tense. And he looked like Jacob did after the call with Billy — muscular, large, and dangerous. But that connection was hardly any help to figure out what was going on. All the boys had done was check out the shops.

Ugh. I shut my eyes and leaned back against the cramped headrest as the flight attendant's voice blared across the intercom, speaking the same words I'd heard too many times in the past couple of months about the plane beginning its descent. I tuned her out and stepped back into my brain. I needed to figure this out.

I thought back to a darker time, one I'd tried to block out of my memory, unsuccessfully. All around me where white walls, and a blinding light hung above me, greeting me as I opened my eyes for the first time in two days. My heart monitor was beating steadily beside my bed and the voice of my mother sounded from the hall. She was speaking to… Billy. Yes, Billy. Then she came in and… and… I couldn't remember after that. What had she said to me? Was it important? I would just have to ask my mother, then.

The impact of the plane as it hit the runway yanked me out of my mind and back into Phoenix, Arizona. Even from the plane window I could see the heatwaves floating in the air. It was so good to be back, even if only until I could find my own place in Florence. Luckily for me, I was ahead on the curriculum, because I was likely going to miss another few weeks of school.

I stepped out of the cab, grabbing my suitcase from the trunk and tipping the driver. As he drove away, I made my way down the driveway that lead to my house. Phil and Renee had decided to have their honeymoon in Phoenix, since they'd spent so much on the wedding, and I expected them to be home. I found the key and unlocked the front door, stepping inside.

"Mom? Phil? Sorry I didn't call before, but my phone died." Silence answered me. I frowned, tossing my bag on the floor. "Mom? Phil?" I could hear music coming from the living room. It was slow, sad. Almost like funeral music. I followed it, my shoulders tense. Something felt wrong. So wrong.

I stood in the doorway, shocked frozen. There on the couch laid Phil, his face stained with tears and the carpet stained with liquor. In his hand was a photograph from the wedding, black and white just like they wanted it. There was a large gash on his forehead, dried up blood caked in his hair and stuck to his cheeks. His lip was cut open, a nasty wound that had probably needed stitches. A bag of frozen peas were tossed aside, leaving a water spot on the side of the couch. He lifted his head weakly to look at me and whispered two words softly, quietly. "She's gone."

My breath stopped. My heart may as well have stopped. I felt my mind go numb, and then it felt tingly as his words sank in — Renee was gone. If my mother was gone, what else did I have to live for? Despair swelled up inside me, but there was only one emotion stronger: complete and utter, not to mention totally irrational rage. I didn't care for the story in that moment; I could only replay the last time I'd seen her. The wedding, when I had made Phil promise to take care of her. My breathing started up again, faster and faster until my chest barely had time to rise, and I lifted a heavy finger, pointing it towards the man on the couch.

"You," I seethed, venom dripping from my voice as it traveled towards him. "You promised! Do you even remember? You promised you'd take care of her. YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD KEEP HER SAFE!"

He didn't stand up, or even sit up. He laid back down and closed his eyes, as if everything was alright. Nothing was alright. "Bella, listen—"

"No, Phil. You listen. I don't care if you are my stepfather — get out of this house." I sounded different in my own ears. Dangerous. He flinched, and I turned away, staggering towards the stairs. "Just leave," I whispered. I waited until the door shut behind me to collapse against the steps and stayed there, awake, for a long, long time, until Phil came home and carried me upstairs to my room, and I was too numb to fight it.

* * *

They said it was an accident — that they lost control of the car and hit the tree, hard. But Phil was driving. He killed her, no matter whether or not he meant to. Now I have another day to mark on my calendar every year, just like December 27.

We had a small funeral. Less than ten people. I didn't look anyone in the eye, and nobody tried to offer me their condolences. Charlie wasn't there, although I couldn't figure out why. There were so many things I couldn't figure out, but I did remember one thing during the funeral; I remembered what my mother had said to me in the hospital. I closed my eyes, lost in a memory that I had wanted to forget, but now clung to like the frightened child that I was.

 _"Mom, you look upset."_

 _She walked up beside me and held my hand. "I just don't want you to be alone right now." Oh… "That's why I've asked Billy to send Jacob with you."_

 _What?_

 _"What?" I asked, immediately sitting up, to the discontentment of the nurse. "Jake's coming with me? What about school?"_

 _"His school on the Reservation has the same program going on for next semester as a way of, how did Billy put it, 'inducing the phasing'? Strange one he is."_

Inducing the phasing… that was definitely something. I'd tried to figure it out, but I'd never heard those words before that day. But why was Jacob dangerous, and what did Billy know about this?

These were the thoughts on my mind for the next week in Phoenix, and the entire plane ride back to Florence. I couldn't count how many times I'd gone back and forth between the countries, but I had to go back. I couldn't stay in Phoenix with Phil any longer, so I decided that I would finish the semester in Italy and wait it out until I was 18. There were just no other options at the time. Well, there was one, but it hadn't even crossed my mind until… _the incident_.

When I arrived, Jacob's bedroom door was wide open, and there was a dent in the wall beside it in the shape of the door handle. His shorts were on the floor of his room, tattered and ripped to shreds. I crouched by them and inspected the rips. They were like nothing I'd seen before, as if he'd just… exploded out of them? I rubbed my throbbing temples — none of this made any sense.

I stood and called out for him. "Jacob? Where are you?" No answer. Panic started to rise, and I grabbed my phone to call. No answer. That was when I noticed a shard of plastic on the ground, and I followed the trail to the wall, where the remains of his phone laid at my feet. "Ugh!" I cried out, frustrated, and tossed my phone onto his bed. There was nothing I could do to contact him. Nothing.

Days passed. Weeks. Months. Jacob was gone, for good this time. He had just disappeared off the face of the earth, and I was beginning to lose hope. I was falling apart. I had no one left, nowhere to go — everything I'd been looking forward to when I'd first come to Italy was dead to me now.

I trudged down the hallway to the school cafeteria, ignoring everything that made me uncomfortable. I ignored the stares at the back of the head, the noise of chairs scraping across the floor, the clusters of sweaty teenagers, but the one thing I couldn't ignore were the whispers. The cruel words wore me down like the harsh tundra or the dry desert, beating down my body, crushing my heart. I didn't know whether to be hot or cold, whether to be strong or hurt, but it was looking like I didn't have much of a choice in that matter.

"It's her again," they whispered too loudly; for all I knew they could have been speaking straight to me. "She looks _scary_." The rest nodded.

Another piped up. "Maybe she killed him. She is a _vampiro,_ remember?" They giggled at this, reducing their chatter to mindless comments about my hair, my face, my clothes. But I was shot, and those words echoed in my head — over, and over, and over.

Maybe she killed him. She is a _vampiro._

Vampire: a corpse that leaves its grave at night to feast on the blood of the living. That's what they thought I was. They thought I killed Jacob.

Tessa. Crystal. My mother. Jacob. Everything I was trying to block out caught up to me in that moment, and something broke inside me, something important. Something I needed but no longer had.

I turned to the girl slowly, and we locked eyes. Then I ran. No, I didn't run towards her — I ran away. My feet hit the ground hard each step I took, past the gate, through the city, and into the forest. My heart was pushing against my neck, trying to escape, the blood rushing faster than ever through my body, and I could almost feel its path. My breathing was laboured, my lungs aching. When I collapsed onto the ground, I wasn't surprised. I knew it was coming and I didn't stop. I was looking for Jacob, but I didn't find him. I found something else, for better or for worse.

The sky was pitch black, no stars and a new moon. The trail that lead me into the forest was long gone, faded into the sticks and stones and dirt along the cold floor. Time had lost all meaning to me — I didn't know how long I'd been running or how long I'd been on the floor. I took sharp breaths, painful breaths, and curled into a ball. Hours passed, and I glanced at the sky. It looked to be about 3 am: the devil's hour.

Then it happened. I felt two razor-edged teeth sink into the skin of my neck, suck up my blood, and then pump it back into my body. I could feel the blood flow through me, like a wave in the ocean. Then the pain started.

It was the worst pain imaginable. All of the beatings and bruises I'd gotten before were like paper cuts to this. This was like touching a candle with your finger and having the fire spread, reaching over my body, burning every crevasse. My skin was being torn from me, consumed by flames. This was the worst way to die, the worst.

Then… why wasn't I dying? I was going to burn forever. What had I done so wrong to deserve this? Now I would never see my mother or Tessa, because they were in heaven. This was the opposite.

The burning was in my heart now, but it kept burning. I could hear screams, and then I realized that they were my own. I begged to die, to end this torture but I only felt another bite on my wrist, and then another. How long had it been? Minutes? Days? Years? I could feel the blood flow through my heart, again and again and again until it finally met the final drop of blood that wasn't singed, and signed it. That was when the burning stopped — when every part of my body was finally on fire. Then my heart stopped, and so did the pain.

I thought I was dead. I waited… there was no light, no memories flashing before my eyes. There was no heaven's gate or demonic flames. There was only strength — not just enough to open my eyes, but enough to lift a skyscraper. I settled for opening my eyes.

Everything was so _clear_.

I could see specks of dust floating in the air, and every detail of them. I could see the grains of paint on the wall, and I could see colours in the light, colours that didn't exist a moment ago.

I could also see the room I was in, lying on a king sized bed. The room was bigger than my entire apartment with Jacob. It was definitely still in Italy, decorated to look like an ancient Roman castle, lined with gold that I could see with my new eyes was real. But, here in this room fit for royalty, I was not alone.

There were four of them _,_ but I didn't know what they were at the time. At first glance they were beautiful men, one much more so than the others. Three of them seemed older almost, with papery white skin and blood red eyes. Two had long black hair, and the other had shorter blond hair. I could see that their intentions regarding me were greedy and self-indulgent.

The final one was fraught with guilt, and I could tell as soon as we locked eyes. There was something about those eyes that lured me in.

There was just something about those golden eyes.


	11. A Cell and A Beautiful Face

**My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter Eleven: A Cell and A Beautiful Face**

There were legends that surrounded the city of Volterra for centuries, legends that spoke of a creature so powerful that all were impotent against him. A creature that set out for something and never came back empty handed. A creature that would be overtaken only by fire, and drew back into hiding while the sun prowled the horizons.

This creature had power, but it was the way that he used it that made him a monster. He had no soul, they said. But even he with no soul grew lonely and set out to make some companions. That is when another was created, then two more brothers for him, until the three grew so powerful that they destroyed their creator, the creature who was so greedy for power that he would go to great lengths to steal it from them.

But that's just a legend.

"You must be thirsty, Bella." I glared daggers at Aro with my crimson eyes, fierce with anger. As a newborn, I was volatile and dangerous, especially to him. My heightened emotions were running amok, pushing to be expressed instead of being trapped in my mind and body. And I had a bone to pick with him.

I huffed, rubbing my throat. The burning was back. Aro had explained everything to me, about what I had become and what had happened to me. The burning was venom pooling in my throat, the same venom that had spread through me and stopped my heart. He'd told me about how my skin sparkled in the sunlight, how our eyes change colour with our thirst, and all of the power and rules that came with being a vampire. Then, he took me to the throne room. I fought as memories clouded my mind…

Hundreds of red-eyed vampires watched as the vampire king sat on his throne, turning to me. "Hold out your hand," he commanded, his childish yet piercing voice compelling me to obey. I placed my right hand in his, hesitantly, fearing for what he would tell me. "He was right," Aro announced with a big voice. He was very theatrical by nature, I could tell. "I cannot read the girl." Shock spread across the room, onto each and every one of their deathly pale faces. Aro retreated into his mind, trying to remember details of my 'condition' so he could tell me. I was a mental shield, a vampire with the power to block abilities that invaded the mind, like his.

I'd spent the last twenty four hours locked up in here, delving into the depths of my power. It came as a second nature to me now, the soft, ice blue shield that I envisioned floating around my mind. I could move it around, expand it to cover the castle, or even just one other person, but I couldn't yet remove it from myself. Refusing to exit the room, I had much time to experiment with my ability, at least until Aro began pestering me about my thirst. "Shut up, Aro," I hissed, clawing at my neck.

He frowned at me. "Behave yourself, Isabella. It is master to you. Now come with me. I will ease the pain." I hesitated, but followed him out anyway. The burn was getting to be too much.

"Where are we going?" We sped down the hallways of the luxurious castle, my question answered when we entered the throne room that was filled with a heavenly aroma. Aro sat beside his brothers on his throne and beckoned for me to stand at his side. I complied, folding my arms over my chest.

Every vampire in the room stood up straight, noses in the air, smiling. "Heidi's back," one of them cheered, making his way out from the shadows. Aro thrusted out a hand, gesturing for him to stop.

"Patience, dear Felix. Ladies first."

Felix smirked at me, taking a step back and falling into a bow. "Of course, master." I already hated him.

Once again, I was confused. Who was Heidi, and why was everyone awaiting her arrival? Well, I didn't have to wait for long to find my answers, because soon enough, my senses were hit by a myriad of smells, delicious smells, enticing smells. Before I knew what was happening, my teeth were bared, legs crouched into an offensive stance, and I was near the entrance and being held back by Felix and his companion.

"Bring her back to me," Aro called from above, and his lackeys dragged me to him, thrashing and biting. "Well, Isabella. It seems you have taken quite nicely to our ways, but you must be patient. Sweet blood will soon be yours."

My nostrils flared and my trashing became more violent as the room filled with humans, their blood swooshing under their skin, pulsing against their necks. I almost didn't notice Aro's use of my given name in my frenzy! I watched their jugulars throb, up and down, again and again, and I could hear their heartbeats in my ears like a drum. Thump, thump. My vision blurred, crossing over my eyes, and venom filled my mouth. There was one thought, only one thought floating through my head: I needed blood.

"You may begin. Heidi, be a dear and fetch Isabella a snack."

Mortal screams filled the room as the guard attacked, drinking each human dry in seconds. Felix held me back for what seemed like hours, until there was only one left: a young girl, thirteen or fourteen, tears streaming down her face as she stared at her parents, both dead on the floor. She looked up, her eyes pleading as they locked with my crimson ones. A tall woman with mahogany hair, clad in a scandalous red dress had a death grip on her shoulders, and at Aro's beckon she pushed the girl towards me, giving me a smug look. From the swift motion, the girl's hair rose from her neck, giving me a full view.

Everything after that was a blur, except the thoughts going through my head: flesh, blood, corpse. After that, I had no doubts. About three things I was absolutely positive. First, I was a vampire. Second, there was a part of me — and it scared me how potent that part may be — that thirsted for blood. And third, I was a murderer. A monster with no soul. He had given me that girl, and I had killed her, just like he wanted me to. Now he had complete control, and there was nothing I could do about it.

* * *

How long had it been? Days? Weeks? I was hiding in the underground vault of the castle, but I could still smell the blood. Thinking back to how it smelled when I was human — strongly of rust and salt — blocked it out a little, enough for me to abstain from running up there and feasting. I focused on a different smell, one of a vampire, that wafted towards me from a few feet in front. I followed it slowly, cautious of the unknown. Brushing back a burlap curtain, I was met with a cell and a beautiful face. The bars were sturdy, but not so much that a vampire couldn't break through them. So why was he still here?

The man inside had lightly olive skin, smooth skin that was not at all papery like Aro's, as well as dark brown hair, almost black, that fell over his eyes. They stared back at me, sad, pleading, crying for help. My breath caught in my throat at his beauty, as it was undeniable. His eyes were black with thirst… could he be a golden-eyed vampire when uncovered?

"Hello," he breathed, shock evident in his wide eyes. His accent was strongly Italian and smooth as silk.

I smiled shyly. "Hi, I'm-"

"Isabella Swan, I know, but it is nice to finally see you in person."

I winced. "Just Bella, please. How do you know who I am?" I asked, cocking my head to the side.

He leaned in closer and whispered, as if telling me a secret. "The walls speak to me, Just Bella." He laughed, a big hearty one. "Now that I can see you with my own two eyes, I can see how fitting it is that your name means beautiful." I would have blushed. "I am Giovanni Volturi, and you would be Bella Volturi now, too." He was part of the Volturi? Then why was he locked up?

"How are these bars holding you back?" I asked, reaching out to touch them. His eyes widened.

"No!" He yelled, and I froze. "Don't touch them, or they will catch fire." I swallowed, withdrawing my hand.

"How long have you been in here?" I asked, taking a step back.

He sighed. "Much too long. Perhaps… three thousand years?"

I gasped, covering my mouth. Three thousand years? That was… horrible. "Why?" I questioned, my voice quiet now. He must have done something terrible to be here that long.

He smiled at me sadly. "Ah, I know that look. I'm not a bad person, I promise. However, I cannot tell you why I am here."

My breathing quickened, and I took another step back, when I thought of something. "How do these bars work?"

His forehead creased. "Mind control. Mental flames that will reduce you to ashes."

 _Mental_ flames... that must mean I could touch the bars without them burning. I smiled. "I will help you get out if you tell me why you are here."

"Impossible," he breathed, staring at me in admiration. "How?"

"Tell me your story first."

He nodded and took a deep breath before beginning. "Very well. It was a long time ago, millennia ago, and I was the fourth king of the vampires. All was right, or so I thought." He paused. "Aro was hungry for power. He would do anything to become more powerful, even kill his own sister."

My eyes widened to the size of saucers, but he continued. "Didyme was Marcus's mate. They were happily in love, living blissfully in this second life, something every vampire strives for but very few get. They wanted to go off on their own, leave the Volturi, but Aro wouldn't have that. He would be weaker without Marcus, and that was unacceptable."

"He killed Didyme. Ripped apart her limbs and tossed them in a fire. He thought no one was there to witness, but I was. He couldn't let me live; he was planning to make her death look like an accident — a newborn attack — and if I told Marcus the truth, he would kill Aro, and then he would kill himself."

"Aro tried to kill me, he really did. But I was too strong to kill; however, he was strong enough to put me in a cell and have Caterina, his most loyal guard member, cast her power on the cell to make it burn on contact. There is no way to undo it now — she followed Didyme and went up in smoke in the very same fire as her master. She would have been honoured." He stopped, venom pooling in his eyes. "She was my mate, and she condemned me to this cell. That was the worst part."

Venom pooled in my eyes, too, and my heart ached from the story. I trusted Giovanni with my life already, and we had only just met. He was trustworthy — I could sense it. "I'm sorry for making you tell me," I whispered, wishing I could help. Then, I realized that I could. "Step back," I called out. He was puzzled, but complied anyway, stepping to the back of the cell.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Busting you out of here," I replied. "Brace yourself." His eyes widened as I lifted my hand and placed it on the bar. When nothing happened, I sighed in relief and yanked the bar off the wall, tossing it behind me. I did this to all of them, until there was a space big enough for Giovanni to leave through. I held out my hand, and he took it, stepping out of the cell for the first time in three thousand years. There was a gleam in his eye as he looked around in awe, his sights settling on me.

"Thank you, Bella. You saved me from eternity in that cell." He took my hand and placed a kiss on the top of it. "Now, let us find a way out of here. Bella, you must come with me. You know things that could put you in danger."

I smiled. "I don't think we have to worry about that. Aro can't read my mind, but I will go with you. There's no way I could look Aro in the eyes after what you told me."

"Yes, I had a feeling." He stared at me curiously, as if inspecting my face would somehow reveal the answers to all of his questions. "How… how did you touch the bars without burning? And you said Aro cannot read your mind?" I let out a small, quiet laugh so that the guard would not hear me and look for me.

"I'll tell you later. Let's get out of here before someone finds us." We knew we had less than a minute to get as far as we could once they noticed our smells disappear. I noticed a small door beside the cell and yanked it open. It was a gate to the tunnel that lead us outside. I looked at Giovanni. "Sixty seconds, run as fast as you can."

"Wait!" He called, resting a hand on my shoulder to stop me. "Demetri will track the tenor of our minds — or, my mind. It is likely that he would not be able to penetrate your mental shield. I, however, cannot go anywhere if I wish to live, but I cannot stay here, for they will see that the bars have been smashed." Panic etched his features as he locked eyes with me. "I am a dead man."

I froze. Could I expand my mental shield to cover him? I had no practice, and this was a dire situation. Concentrating, I envisioned the ice blue shield that ensconced my mind and flexed it until it floated around me. Carefully, my eyes glued to Giovanni's, I looked through him, into his mind and wrapped it in my shield. I sighed in relief. "I've blocked your mind. Now can we go?" He nodded, awe-struck, and on the count of three, we both bolted down the tunnels towards the exit.

The end of the tunnel was glowing with lights from the city. Luckily for us it was night, so the sun couldn't reach us. We were almost there, almost… A figure standing at the end of the tunnel came into view. He was short with long black hair, a sadistic smile gracing his face — Aro. We couldn't stop running; if we did, we would be surrounded from front and back.

Giovanni leaped into the air and landed on Aro's back, twisting his head and ripping it from his neck. I froze, shellshocked. "Run, Bella!" Giovanni yelled, and I followed him out of the tunnels and deep into he forest. We stopped when we were fan enough in, sucking in lungfuls of unnecessary oxygen.

I moved away from him, and he laughed. "Don't worry, Bella. They'll reattach his head."

There was a moment of silence between us, until I spoke. "Now what?"

"Tell me about your power."

I nodded. "I'm a mental shield. I can block all mental powers, like Aro's and Jane's. Man, that girl was so upset when her power didn't work on me."

He laughed. "Yes, I would have surmised that. I have not met her directly, but as I said — the walls speak to me, and sometimes they scream." A moment of silence lingered in the air before he cleared his throat and continued. "What else can you do?"

"I can protect the minds of others, like what I did with you, Giovanni."

"Please, call me Gio. We are the closest of friends now. So, no one can read my mind, and Demetri cannot track me?" I shook my head. "That's incredible. You are one of the most powerful vampires I have met in my day," Gio said, sitting on a rock and patting the space beside him.

"Thank you."

It was peaceful, and we sat in comfortable silence, just thinking, when we caught a scent. Two humans, a man and a woman, had been hiking, when one of them had scraped their knee on a rock. There was the fire again, the venom seeping from between my teeth, and my nostrils flared up. In a matter of seconds, I'd killed one, and Gio the other. I sank to the ground, wrapping my arms around my knees as Gio disposed of the bodies. He came to sit beside me and rested a hand on my shoulder.

"Are you alright, Bella?"

Venom pooled in my eyes as I looked up at him. "Why? Why do we have to live like this?"

A look of comprehension crossed his face. "There is another way. I assume you know of the golden-eyed vampires." I looked up, hope shimmering in my crimson eyes. "There are two covens in the world who follow another diet, one that consists entirely of animal blood — one is in Denali, Alaska, and the other in Forks, Washington."

"Forks?" It hit me like a ton of bricks — my only choice was to go to Forks, live with Charlie, and get this coven to teach me how to follow the animal diet. "Gio, my dad lives in Forks! I have to go there. I can live with him, learn how to follow this… animal diet, and graduate high school like a normal girl!"

He smiled at me. "I knew you wouldn't follow our diet. You have a heart of gold, my dear. Listen to it, and I will find you when the time comes. Beware the Volturi."

"I will," I responded, throwing my arms around him. "Thank you for everything, Gio. And for telling me about Aro's true nature."

He let go of me and held me away at arm's length. "You are very welcome, beautiful. But you are in danger, now that you know my story. Keep your shield up at all times, and remember this one, very important thing."

I nodded. "Yes?"

"Look for Carlisle. Carlisle Cullen. He will not lead you astray."


	12. Edward

**My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter Twelve: Edward**

Twelve and a half hours. Seven hundred and fifty minutes. Forty five thousand seconds.

That is how long I went without breathing.

My crimson eyes had faded to a darker red, their screams hidden behind heavily tinted sunglasses. I gripped the armrests so tightly that they were left with a hearty dent, and I didn't once take a breath.

It burned. If I had to compare the pain to something, it would be the change — venom raked through my body, scorched my throat and made my lungs scream from the fire. All the while I sat, completely still, unmoving, in the back of a plane alongside hundreds of humans with beating hearts and pulsing blood. This was different than all of the other times I'd been on a plane for this long. This could only be described as torture, and the purest form of it.

When I stepped off the plane into the fresh, unpolluted air of Port Angeles, I didn't take a deep breath. The gentle pressure of rain pressed against my parka, my favourite white eyelet-lace t-shirt that I had snagged from my apartment underneath it, and I looked up at the sky; luckily for me, today wasn't one of the few sunny days that showed up once in a blue moon. A raindrop fell against the screen of my sunglasses — I had to wear them, even in the rain, to hide my eyes. I sighed. Maybe I could just pass them off as a habit, seeing as I lived in Arizona for most of my life — although, with my pale skin, I may as well have lived here.

My dad wasn't hard to find — there were only two or three cars parked in front of the exit. This made sense, considering that I was at Port Angeles International, the closest airport to the small town of Forks, and the last time someone new had come to Forks was two years ago: a large family from Alaska whom I would assume went by the last name Cullen. If they had lived there for more than two years, it would be hard to keep their pretences, so it would make sense that this family was Carlisle's. Plus, the family came from Alaska, and that was where the other animal-drinking coven lived. Maybe they knew each other.

Of the two or three cars parked in front of me, it was transparent which belonged to my father, Chief Swan. Black and white striped with coloured lights strapped to the top, the police cruiser was unbelievably ostentatious. Charlie was waiting in the front seat with the windows rolled up — even with a parka, the frosty air was dangerously cold — and he was tapping the steering wheel impatiently. He looked awful: dishevelled hair, bags under his eyes, and wrinkled, stained clothes that hadn't been changed in days. I peered through the glass, watching him, and gently knocked on it. It was crucial to be careful of my strength around humans, especially since I was still a newborn.

My father, who had moved on to fiddling with the buttons of his car radio, jumped in his seat at the sharp sound of my knocking, clutching his hands to his chest. I could hear his heart from outside — loud, rhythmic, frantically pulsing with blood. Venom pooled in my throat.

Charlie looked up at me with frightened, bloodshot eyes — almost as red as my own — and I smiled as apologetically as I could muster. He rolled down his window and winced at the cool breeze. "Geez Bella! I... I didn't hear you walk up." His voice was rough, like sandpaper.

I swallowed hard and subtly took a shallow breath, testing the waters. Sighing, I made a face at him. "The windows were up, dad. Hello to you, too," I greeted.

He smiled sheepishly at me, a sad smile. "Hey, Bells. I missed you. Welcome home." I shook my head playfully at him, and he rolled up his window again. I took this as a 'get in already, you're letting the cold air in,' and made my way to the passenger side of the cruiser.

I was walking at a painfully slow human's pace, when I remembered that I was supposed to be exceptionally clumsy. As I pulled open the cruiser door — carefully so as not to break it, the poor thing didn't mean to be so awfully embarrassing — I stumbled on my way in, landing softly on the seat with a quiet thud. Charlie laughed, and I couldn't help but join in.

I must have been less than five feet away from him; I could hear his heart thumping, feel the blood pulsing through his veins, but most of all, I could smell it. His scent was floral and extremely sweet — sort of funny for a macho policeman. Actually, it smelled a lot like my human scent, from what I could gather of it. My apartment was covered in it, but it was overshadowed by the heavy stench of wet dog. Whatever it was, it was repulsive, but Charlie's scent wasn't. No, his was delicious. I had to find the Cullens and put a stop to this pain, but for now I was going to have to focus on mind over matter.

But now I was lost in my mind.

There was one thought I couldn't shake: was I putting my father in danger by being here? What if the Volturi found me? There were so many scenarios that ended badly for both of us, and it was driving me crazy. I had to think about something else.

My memory of my second life was flawless. I could remember things like they had been filmed and stored away in my head, equipped with smells, sounds, and sensations. It was almost as if I could travel back to that moment and relive it; however, with these new memories so vivid came the loss of my old memories. Some stayed with me, though, like Jacob. The fever, his disappearance, Billy's cryptic messages…

Billy. He lived in La Push, a reservation near Forks. I had to go there and find out what was going on with Jacob, what he knew about it. I didn't have long, either — after graduation, I was to spend eternity with Giovanni roaming the world on the run from the Volturi. I had just over a year with to bond with Charlie, get the truth out of Billy… and find Carlisle Cullen. I almost felt like a human who knew when they were going to die, the thought just about always hovering over you.

The drive from Port Angeles to Forks was an hour long. The ride had been silent so far, apart from Charlie fiddling with the radio. He had put on some kind of modern pop music, hoping that I would enjoy it, but in truth it was far from the classical music that I liked, that my mother had played it around the house. Besides the music, the silence between us was not uncomfortable; we were both okay with silence, and that made it easier to be around each other. We could see the beauty in silence. He'd always said that I was much more like him than Renee — calm, responsible, and realistic. But I had one big thing in common with Renee; we were both dead in our own ways.

The cruiser pulled up in our driveway, a sight I hadn't seen since I was thirteen — only this time, I was alone. Tessa wasn't beside me, buzzing with excitement to see Jake again, and I wasn't shaking my head at her, pretending to be less excited when really I was bursting at the seams.

The house was the same as ever. The white paint was chipping, a paint job that was older than me, and the roof was green, just like everything else in this overgrown town. I hopped out of the cruiser and followed Charlie through the front door, going out of my way to catch my foot on a pint-sized rock and stumble.

The inside of the house was the same, yet completely different. Just walking into it make it painfully clear that Charlie had never gotten over Renee and was heartbroken by her death. The mantle still held pictures of the three of us when I was a baby, and the coffee table in front of the couch was covered with empty beer cans and half-empty pizza boxes. An image popped into my head of a wasted Charlie, feet up on the couch, eating pizza and watching football on a Wednesday night. It was hard to look at, and I needed to get out of here.

He led me up the creaking staircase to the second door on the left with his hand lingering behind the small of my back. He didn't dare touch me, of course, considering somewhere in his subconscious was warning him that I was dangerous.

"I cleared some shelves out in the bathroom," he mumbled, yanking the door open ungracefully and beckoning me inside. Right, one bathroom. He dropped his arm, awkwardly standing by the door as I looked around.

My room was mostly unchanged from when I had lived here; my father had added an ancient computer and a lamp on the bedside table. Charlie coughed, rubbing his fingers along his black moustache. "It's a pretty good work lamp. The saleslady picked out the, uh, the bed stuff. You like purple, right?" I glanced at the bed — purple sheets, purple comforter, purple pillows. It was like I was twelve again.

"Yeah," I choked out, wishing he would leave. He shuffled closer to me, and I subtly covered my nose with my hand. "Purple's cool. Thanks."

"Ok," he muttered before finally retreating to the living room for a can of beer and an evening of yelling at the television. The best thing about Charlie was that he didn't hover.

I collapsed onto the bed when my father was gone, staring at the ceiling. Purple was my favourite colour as a child, and it stirred up old, fuzzy memories. I used to love going to the mall and shopping with Tessa, always purple, and we would drag Jake with us and make him complement everything we tried on. Now I hated shopping.

I buried my face into the pillow, and then recoiled — it smelled like my father, and it was burning my throat. Everything in the room smelled like him. I had to get out of there.

I really needed those golden eyes to be mine.

* * *

Trees surrounded me, trapping me into the forest, and I turned in a circle, slowly. A gust of wind struck my face, whipping up my hair and tossing it around in the breeze. My transformation had brought out the mahogany in my dull brown hair and twirled it into delicate curls that fell to the small of my back. My skin, now the exact colour of freshly fallen snow, had grown paler than my part-albino ivory. It was hard as cement yet smooth as silk and colder than ice; I hadn't yet met a human who didn't flinch away from my touch or fall for my beauty. It was true — I was beautiful now, and no one could deny it, not even those pesky bullies.

I turned my face to the sky as rain poured down on me through the trees, making my hair cling to my face. I was free out here, like a true creature of the night. Sleep wasn't possible for a vampire, so I decided to explore my new home. I had climbed out of my bedroom window, jumped onto the ground below, and darted into the forest, bare-footed. A bright, scintillating light had lead me here, the light of the moon shining overhead; it was a full moon, howls echoing off the cliffs. Running aimlessly for what could have been hours, snapping branches on the forest floor with my bare feet, eventually I came across a curtain of branches. I brushed them aside with my arm and gasped at what was behind it. My dripping wet clothes stuck to my skin, I stood in front of the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.

It was a meadow. Trees made way for the field, filled by an expanse of white freesias, their floral aroma blanketing the grass. The soft sound of running water filled the air, but I couldn't see a waterfall. The air was wet, like a sip of water to a dry throat. My eyes wandered, soaking in the beauty of nature that I had never quite experienced before, not like this. The wind ruffled the trees, and a shadow passed through them. My back tensed, sensing a presence.

A soft thud sounded from behind me, and I turned around. It was a man in a defensive crouch, and when I set my eyes on him, the meadow paled in comparison to his beauty. When our gazes locked, all the violence disappeared from his eyes.

His hair was a dull bronze, fading at the tips into the lightest shade of brown. Even from a distance it appeared impossibly soft, and the urge to touch it was unbearable from the moment he captured my eyes. His hair seemed reddish in the moonlight with a delicate maroon tint. As if he'd just run his hands through it, as I so desperately wanted to do, his untamed, tousled locks were sticking out in every direction.

It was as if he was sculpted by a master, with his full red lips, chiseled jaw, and lifted cheekbones; however, what lured me in the most were his eyes. They were gold.

His long, black eyelashes curled outwards, opening up his bright eyes even more. With eyelids covered in deep, lavender purple bruises, striking against his pure white skin, he looked extremely tired - like he'd gone decades without sleep. But his eyes were empty, full of sorrow that had planted itself inside him and plagued his very existence.

I frowned. Why was the angel frowning? I wanted to see him smile a beautiful smile, to see his straight white teeth shine against the dark colour of his lips. My dead heart frowned with my lips — what was stirring up inside of me?

I wanted to know his name, to know everything about him: why he was frowning, the story behind those troubled eyes that met my own. Everything about him invited me in: his face, his voice, even his smell —it smelled of fresh honey, fragrant lilacs, and… the sun. And I'd never smelled anything nearly as lovely as honey-lilac-sun.

"Hello," he said in his musical, velvety voice. He had been crouching when he dropped from the trees, but when we locked eyes, everything changed. There was already a bond between us, but I couldn't tell just yet what kind of bond it was.

"Hi," I replied intelligently, dazed by everything about him. But soon my mind cleared, and I was able to think. His eyes were gold, so he must be…

"Carlisle?" His eyes widened, and he shook his head. He wasn't Carlisle? But then who was he?

"Why are you looking for my father?" He asked, taking a step closer. I was thoroughly confused, now.

"I thought… _our kind_ couldn't have children."

Now he was smiling, and his smile was just as beautiful as I imagined it would be. "He is my father of sorts, I should have said. He is the one who changed me."

A strong wave of sadness washed over me as I thought of the golden-eyed vampire who had changed me. If only I could see him again. "I don't know who changed me," I whispered, staring at the long blades of grass at my feet. A growl erupted from the man in front of me, making me jump. As I met his eyes, his gaze softened.

"I apologize. I didn't mean to startle you…"

"Bella."

"I didn't mean to startle you, Bella. It's just, any newborn being left alone to figure this life out for themselves, it's sickening. And a crime."

I looked away again, biting my lip. "Well, I wasn't entirely alone." He came closer, until he was almost three feet away, and his expression seemed to be asking me to tell him more. And for some reason, I felt compelled to tell this man the whole story, and I didn't even know his name.

"Edward," he said, holding out his hand. I looked up, startled, and gave him a questioning look. "I didn't get a chance to introduce myself. I'm Edward Cullen. You're Bella?"

I stared at him, unmoving. Edward moved his face closer and whispered, "This is when you shake the hand." I laughed and placed my hand in his, and a spark ran down my arm and into my palm. He was still so close to me that I could feel his breath tickle my nose. We stared into each other's eyes, and I knew he could see that mine were red. So why wasn't he scared?

"Come with me," he whispered, taking his hand out of our handshake-grip only to hold it more comfortably. "I will take you to see my father, and meet the rest of my family." He took of running through the forest with me in tow. Edward was fast; in fact, without my newborn speed, I probably would have fallen far behind. Well, if he wasn't holding my hand, maybe.

"The rest of your family?" I blurted out, zipping past the blurry trees. "How many?"

He smiled, but it was different than his other smile. It seemed he had one just for talking about his family. Maybe he had six smiles. "My mother of sorts, Esme, for one. She is the most loving person you will ever meet, vampire or human. Jasper and Emmet are my brothers, and Alice and Rosalie are my sisters. Then there's Carlisle, but you seem to know about him."

I could sense a question in those last words, but I knew I couldn't tell him about my past. Everything I knew put me in danger, and if I told Edward, that would put him in the same position. And that, I promised myself, would never happen. But, then again, promises are useless.

There was a river nearby; I could tell because of the sound of running water. We broke through the trees into a clearing. A rectangular house three stories high was sitting on top of the coarse brown dirt. The house was graceful and large, painted a faded white. The entire back wall was made of glass, overlooking the river, and all of it smelled of honey-lilac-sun. This was the Cullen House.

Nervous, I played with Edward's fingers. I knew he could sense my nerves — it seemed like he had a power to tell how I was feeling — so he gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

It had stopped raining, but the ground was damp and muddy and got between my toes. Edward lead me up the wooden porch stairs that lead to the front door. "Don't worry," he whispered. Easier said than done.

The front door opened without us having to ring the bell. Clearly they knew we were here, but it still shocked me. Six distinct scents drifted from inside, all laced with a honey tone, but honey-lilac-sun was still the most lovely. There was no movement from inside the house, like they were all tense and frozen in their spots, which was probably my fault.

In the doorframe stood a handsome man who looked to be in his early twenties but was probably centuries older. His blond hair was swept back, and his features were defined, and his eyes were golden. This could have been Carlisle, Jasper, or Emmett, but I had a feeling that I knew which one.

"Carlisle," Edward greeted, confirming my suspicions. I gripped his hand tightly, the nerves building up. Edward looked down at me, his eyes soft and gentle, as if telling me that everything would be alright. He turned to his father and motioned in my direction. "Dad, this is-"

"Bella!" A silvery bell-like voice cut Edward off, and a petite girl bounded gracefully from behind Carlisle. Her cropped black hair stuck out in every direction, and she was extremely beautiful with long, delicate eyebrows and large golden eyes. The girl ran over to me and wrapped her arms around my stomach, her head only reaching just below my chin. I tensed up, feeling the urge to push her off, but held back.

"Let her go, Alice," Edward warned in a low voice, and she let me go with a small pout. She huffed at him, but her mood suddenly became happy again.

She smiled. "It's okay, Edward. Bella and I are going to be great friends. I can see it." There was a moment of silence between us, but then Alice reached up and pressed her lips against my cheek. Startled, I let out a small snarl and stepped back.

All of a sudden, a loud growl erupted from Alice's side, and she was being held behind a terrifying man. His neck and jaw were covered in crescent-shaped scars, wounds that looked like they'd been sewn up and torn open all over again. The covered every inch of the his hard, pale white skin at his throat, and I instinctively tensed to defend myself. How many vampires had tried to kill him? Hundreds? Thousands? The same number that had died in the attempt. His stance was a crouch, low, offensive, and I couldn't help but feel threatened. He bared his teeth.

Edward pulled me behind him and growled back at the man. "Jasper, she's not dangerous. You of all people should know that."

A snarl ripped from Jasper's throat that sounded like the loud engine of Billy Black's truck. "Me? All I know is that she's a human-drinking nomad, and she just growled at Alice. That gives me every right to kill her."

My chest twisted in pain at the thought of hurting Alice. She was so sweet, so fragile, and it seemed we were already friends. To add to my confusion, a wave of emotion passed through Jasper's eyes before he stood up, still in front of Alice but no longer growling at me. Edward got up as well, and there was a moment of awkward silence as we were still standing in the doorframe. Why had he not attacked me?

Carlisle cleared his throat. "How rude of us, please come inside, Bella." His eyes were kind, yet still cautious. He stared at Edward for a few seconds, and then Edward shook his head. Had they just communicated without words? He opened the door wider, and Edward moved to take my hand. I put my hand in my pocket and ignored the hurt look on his face, despite the sting I felt when I saw it, following him and his father into the house.

My muscles were rigid and tense, and I was still fearful of Jasper. How could I not be? He was dangerous, I could tell, and he wouldn't hesitate to kill me. But, against my will, I began to relax, to feel more at ease — a disadvantage for me if a fight were to break out. There was an empath in this room, and I knew exactly who it was.

The room was modern and open, and very, very large, as if it had been two or more rooms but the walls had been taken out. The west side was filled by a magnificent curling staircase, and on the other side was an elevated platform carrying a grand piano. For a home full of seven vampires, I was certainly not expecting this.

"Wow," I breathed, my eyes wandering the room, filled with admiration. I was starting to forget the position I was in. "It's beautiful."

Edward chuckled. "You seem shocked. What did you expect? Coffins and dungeons and moats?"

"No," I defended, turning my attention onto him. I smiled. "Not the moats."

"Not the moats," he laughed, leaning his head back. His laughter turned into a smile, which became serious. His voice became heavy, filled with emotion. "It's the one place we never have to hide."

I made my way to him, which lead me to the platform. It was as if he gravitated towards the piano — I could see how much he loved it. My eyes drifted from it to him. "Beautiful," I whispered, and then coughed. "The piano. It's… lovely. What is your favourite piece?"

He stared at me, a deep, intense emotion in his eyes. "How did you know I play?"

"Easy," I replied. "The way you find your way towards the piano when you walk through the door, and the way your eyes run across the keys as if you are rehearsing." I broke our gaze and ran my fingers across the ivory keys. He tensed up. "The way you don't like anyone else to touch it." I lifted my hand from the piano, resting it against my neck.

"You really are an enigma, Bella." Edward sighed, his eyes darting across the keys.

"You're doing it again," I said. "Playing without touching the keys."

He paused, thinking. "Clair de Lune."

"What?"

"You asked me earlier, about my favourite piece. It's Clair de Lune." I smiled, thinking of the times my mother used to play that song around the house. Among other times.

"Oh," I choked out, venom pooling in my eyes. "That was my mother's favourite, too. They played it at her funeral."

A woman's voice came from the back of the room. "Oh, sweetie. That's so sad." I turned around, and she was standing right behind me. Her heart-shaped face was framed by billows of soft, caramel-coloured hair, and she was definitely a beauty. She looked to be in her mid twenties, perhaps a year or two older than Carlisle, and her features were gentle, less angular than the others, complementing her slender figure. Her expression was warm and compassionate, and her golden eyes held a twinge of sadness.

Edward placed a comforting hand in the small of my back. "Bella, this is my mother, Esme."

I wiped my dry cheek with the back of my hand — habit, I suppose — and stretched out my other hand to shake hers, but she didn't take it; instead, she pulled me into a cozy hug. Surprisingly, I felt no desire to fling her off of me like I had with Alice, and wrapped my arms around her. Over her shoulder, I saw Carlisle become rigid. It hurt, every time someone would do that, as if I would hurt their loved ones. I would do anything to make sure that never happened.

I pulled away from her and wiped away another imaginary tear. "I was born here, in Forks. My mom left my dad when I was a baby and took me with her, and we lived together up until… well, you know. She passed away two months ago, and I came here to live with my father. It's hard living with him sometimes, especially knowing he never really stopped loving her, but it's made me kind of sore when it comes to love…" I trailed off, realizing I was pouring my heart out to them when they didn't even know my last name. "I'm Bella Swan, by the way."

Shock seemed to be permanently imbedded into all of their faces, especially Jasper's. He pulled Alice behind him again, and pushed them both back a step. "Swan," he hissed. "She is the same Isabella that the Chief said was coming to town. She's his daughter."

I was confused by his hostility. What did knowing who I was change? And why was the air in the room so tense, so full of animosity?

Carlisle's eyes widened, and even he took Esme into his arms. He stared at Edward. "Is she…?"

"I don't know," he admitted, unable to look his father in the eyes. "I can't read her." There was a sharp prodding against my mental shield, like someone was trying to break through. I winced — Edward was a telepath. Well, that explained his and Carlisle's mental conversation, but what was so horrible about him not being able to read my mind?

"Edward!" Jasper exploded, anger obliterating his features. "A newborn! You brought a newborn into the house, and you can't even read her mind? Do you realize what she could do to Ali, to all of us?" I gasped, realizing that they thought I was dangerous. Could I blame them?

Against my better judgement, I ran to Jasper and placed my hand on his arm, trying to convince him that I was not a threat. Alice's eyes glazed over for a second and then widened, and she moved to grab Jasper's shoulder — only, she was too late. Suddenly, he was over me, teeth bared, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from the scars along his jaw and neck.

His teeth sank into my shoulder, and an excruciating pain tore through my body.


	13. One More Promise To Keep

**My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter Thirteen: One More Promise to Keep**

I had a scar. A crescent-shaped scar, a wound that looked like it had been sewn up and torn open all over again. To have a scar like this, especially one inflicted by Jasper Whitlock himself, meant guaranteed death. But I was the exception; I lived, and this scar was like a trophy. Only I didn't feel like the winner.

Screams bottled up in my throat as he tore through my skin, and venom dripped from his teeth. It was the fire all over again, like the absence of heat across my icy skin was gathering in that one spot, burning. And, for the third time since my change, I feared for my life.

Strong hands tore me from Jasper's death grip and held me close, and I opened my eyes, focusing on Edward's blue button-up as his arms tightened around my waist. I was safe, and the terrified feeling inside of me began to fade away. Growls filled my ears, but these growls came from Edward, and they didn't scare me. Not like _his_.

"Jasper!" He erupted. My shoulder burned as Jasper's venom seeped through the wound, and I clenched Edward's shirt in my fists. His voice was quiet now, almost a hiss, but it was full of rage. "If you ever touch her again, I'll-"

"You'll what?" Jasper interrupted, sounding almost hysterical. "You'll kill me? Edward, who is she? Why is she here? If she hurt Alice, your sister, would you defend her? Look at her blood red eyes and tell me that she's not a monster. You don't know anything about this girl, and yet you defend her against your own brother."

Edward snarled at him. "You hypocrite! You drank human blood once too, remember? If Alice hadn't found you, maybe you still would. So yes, Jasper, I am defending Bella, and I know she isn't a monster. Look past the colour of her eyes, Jazz. Look how hurt they are, and how honest, and tell me she's a monster."

My heart ached at his words, because he was wrong — I was a monster. Guilt rose up inside me — I had only known them for minutes, and I was already tearing their family apart. But Jasper did have a point. Why was Edward defending me?

Jasper turned to me, breathing heavy. Then I remembered that he could sense my emotions, and I showed him just how I felt. Guilt, pain, but most of all… hope. I still needed their help. I breathed in Edward's soothing scent and whispered into Edward's shirt, my words directed at Jasper.

"Just let me talk," I pleaded. "I'll tell you what you want to hear. Please, let me explain." Jasper swallowed hard, nodding. Alice ran up to him and hugged him from behind; her tiny body hardly reached halfway up his back, and her short arms just barely closed around his stomach, but a his frown faded into a straight line and his breathing evened out. She had quite the effect on him.

All of a sudden, the front door slammed open. "Hey," a loud voice boomed. Standing in the doorway were two more vampires — by process of elimination, they must have been Emmett and Rosalie. The big one struck fear into my heart — at least until he opened his mouth. "I heard fighting. Why didn't anyone invite me?" He lifted his arm and flexed his large bicep, a goofy grin on his face.

He was huge, like a serious weight-lifter, and almost too tall to fit through the doorframe. He would have been extremely intimidating, even frightening if it wasn't for the child-like expression on his face — dimples, bright eyes, and an innocent smile. His short hair was dark brown, almost black, and slightly curling. But even smiling, he looked like he could crush me between his fingers.

Beside him was the most beautiful woman in the entire world. She had an elegant figure, which was locked tight in a black dress. Her golden hair cascaded down her back, a perfect match for her topaz eyes, and her features were long and slender. Just being in the same room as Rosalie was a hit on my self-esteem, and I wondered how anyone could believe that she was human. The only thing about her that was less than perfect was the scowl that formed on her lips when she saw her eyes met mine.

"Who is she?" Rosalie seethed, glaring in my direction. Her voice was bitter, unlike Emmett's playful tone. She was his exact opposite, from what I'd seen, and yet they were mates. Emmett followed her gaze to me, and an even bigger smirk broke out on his lips as he jutted his chin towards me.

"Hey," he greeted, looking me up and down, one eyebrow raised. "Whoever you are, it seems Edward has taken a liking to you." My eyes widened, and I realized that Edward was still hugging me to his chest, his shirt clenched in my fists and his hand pressing gently against my shoulder wound. We jumped apart, and I pretended to smooth the wrinkles out of my shirt — it was entirely unnecessary either way, considering the shirt was wet, torn at the shoulder and sticking to my skin. I snuck a glance at Alice, and she was giving Edward a mysterious smile.

Carlisle appeared in front of us, holding his hand out for me. "Bella, you should sit down. That wound on your shoulder will heal itself, but it may sting for a while." He shot a reproving look at Jasper, who still seemed unapologetic. "Please, allow me to escort you to the living room, where we may discuss the situation, civilly." I took his hand and allowed him to lead me to the living room, glancing over my shoulder at Edward. Right now, he was the only one I felt comfortable with. Him and Esme — there was something incredible about her.

* * *

Sitting upright, I watched Jasper out of the corner of my eye. Observing me in the same fashion, he was standing behind the love seat where Alice sat, refusing as she tried to convince him to sit with her. Emmett was on a chair adjacent to them, smiling ignorantly with a scowling Rosalie sideways on his lap. Carlisle and Esme were settled into the sofa, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders and her head resting against his chest, a welcoming smile on her lips.

I knew I had to tell them my story now. But there was one problem — I couldn't. Before I left, Giovanni had made one thing clear; no one could know the truth. So, he gave me a cover story, and that was what I had to tell them. Only… I didn't want to lie to the Cullens. I didn't want to lie to Edward.

He took my hand hesitantly, afraid that I would pull away again. I didn't. Somehow, his touch was comforting, and although it made it harder to lie, it gave me the strength to speak.

I took a deep breath before beginning. "When it all started, I was in studying abroad in Europe for a semester with my best friend, Jacob.

"After a couple of weeks, I went back to Phoenix for my mother's wedding to her boyfriend, Phil. Jacob wanted to come with me, but he had a small fever. I was hardly gone for two days, so I didn't think it was a big deal.

"When I got back, he was so sick. He couldn't leave his bed, couldn't speak, and he was burning up. It seemed impossible that he could be fine one day, and then on the verge of death. Even now, I don't understand what was going on with him, but things only got worse. He just… collapsed. I thought he was dead, but then I called his father, Billy Black. He told me to get out of there, as fast as I could, and not to come back."

I paused, surveying the faces of the seven vampires in the room. Esme looked sympathetic, Alice looked sad, but Carlisle… Carlisle looked horrified. Edward stared at him, a shocked look on his face, and seemed to be reading his thoughts.

I shook my head and continued. "I got on the first flight back to Phoenix, and took a cab to my mother's house. I walked inside and heard music coming from the living room, so I followed it. Phil was on my couch, a large gash in his forehead, and he told me that my mother was dead." They knew it was coming, but I could see empathy on each of their faces. They had all gone through losing their parents, only they got to watch them grow old, live long lives.

"I went back to Europe the day after the funeral, and Jacob was gone. Missing. I searched for him every day, every night, until one day, I got lost in the forest. I curled up into a ball, shivering in the cold, until I felt a pair of teeth sink into the skin of my neck. It was the most intense pain I had ever felt, multiplied by a hundred." I felt Edward's grip on my hand tighten, only this time it wasn't to comfort me. Looking up into his eyes, I saw pain in them — pain that I had caused. I squeezed back, until our grip was so tight that human bones would have cracked beneath it.

"I saw his face, but only for a second. He had dark hair that fell over his eyes… his golden eyes. But I blinked, and he was gone." I paused again, knowing that I had to lie now. I had to tell them the cover story. "I… I was thirsty, so I went looking for water. Then, I came across a young girl camping in the woods."

Esme's eyes widened. "No," she whispered, horrified. The venom pooled in my eyes, because even if I was lying, it wasn't so far from the truth. Memories of the day in the throne room flooded my mind.

"I killed her," I croaked, unable to look them in their golden eyes. "I didn't want to, but I couldn't stop. He made me…" I froze, realizing that I had slipped up. They couldn't know the truth, about how Aro made Heidi hold the girl in front of me, kicking and screaming, until I gave in and drank her blood. No, then I would have to defy Gio and tell them the rest, and that would put them all in danger. I had to protect my friend as well.

Edward lifted my chin with his finger, making me look at him. "Bella," he whispered, horrified. "Who made you do it?"

"He did," I replied hoarsely, making up a lie. "The one who changed me. He made me a vampire. I wouldn't have had to kill her if he hadn't made me a vampire." He seemed relieved after I said that, at least a little bit.

I composed myself. "I saw my eyes in a river — they were blood red. I realized I was a vampire, but I still had so many questions-"

"Questions you should have been able to ask your creator," Carlisle interrupted. "Bella, it's a crime to change a human and leave them. If we ever find your sire, we will turn him in to the Volturi." I frowned. Even if he did find him, the Volturi would do nothing of it — they were the ones who commissioned him.

Jasper spoke up. "You said he had golden eyes?" I nodded, and he and Carlisle exchanged a look. 'That means…" Jasper turned to Edward, as if asking for approval to say something. He shook his head, and Jasper sighed. "Ahem, please continue, Bella."

I eyed the two for a moment, but decided to let it go for now. I had a cover story to tell, and if I wasn't going to tell the whole truth, they didn't have to either. "Um, I was wandering the forest for a few days, until I came across two nomadic vampires like myself — a mated pair. I travelled with them for a while and met other vampires, until I noticed that they all had red eyes. So, I asked my coven about the vampire who changed me, and they told me that golden eyes meant a diet of only animals. Of course, I wanted to follow the diet if it meant not having to kill humans, and they told me to find a man named Carlisle Cullen."

Carlisle smiled at me, no longer defensive. "Yes, well, you found me." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What are their names? Perhaps I know them."

My perfect memory served me well. "Their names are James and Aspyn. They are both trackers — good ones at that. They lead me to you."

At their names, Edward froze, and his hand slipped out from underneath mine. "Aspyn," he mumbled under his breath. "When did you meet her?"

My frown deepened. I'd never actually met them, but it seemed that Edward had. Or, at least he'd met the woman. "I met them a week after my change. So, maybe… just over a month ago?"

Emmett let out a booming laugh. "No way."

"What?" I responded, curious about his reaction, and a little worried. He didn't believe me?

He raised an eyebrow. "There's no way you're a newborn. You're so… tame."

"Emmett," Alice warned in her sing-song voice. "Don't antagonize her. She's the strongest one in the house."

He snorted and cracked his knuckles. "Please. We could settle this with a quick match…"

The rest of their conversation fell on deaf ears, because I was focused on Edward. He was silent, and he hadn't moved a muscle. "Edward," I whispered, shaking him gently. "Are you okay?"

He stared into my eyes, his lips trembling, and he tore his hand from mine. Edward stood up, running a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "Yeah," he muttered. "I'm fine. I just need… some air."

Esme frowned, noticing his shaking fingers. "Edward, where are you going?" I hadn't known her very long, not over an hour, but I could tell that she wasn't really asking where he was going.

"Don't worry, Esme." Edward rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and grabbed his jacket, pulling out a phone and tossing the coat over his chair. He made his way towards the door. "I will come back."

I knew where he was going from the look in his eyes — the meadow where I found him. He loved that meadow the way he loved his piano, and although I wanted to go after him when the door slammed shut, I knew better. But there was something else lingering in his eyes: pain, guilt, but absolutely no regret.

Whatever he was feeling, it had something to do with my story, and most likely that woman — Aspyn. Panic settled over me; if he knew her, he could call my bluff. There was no way Carlisle would help me if he knew I was lying. But if I was being honest, something else was bothering me, too. The thought of Edward… with her.

"Does he… do that a lot?" I asked, my voice small. The room had gone silent, and everyone was staring at me. Esme nodded sadly, and Carlisle held her hand firmly in his lap.

"It's hard for him, being a house full of couples, but that was an odd time to leave like that," Alice surmised. "I didn't see it, not until after you asked him if he was okay."

I groaned, feigning innocence. "Oh no, this is my fault, isn't it? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, of course not, sweetheart," Esme replied. "This has nothing to do with you."

Jasper stood up, glaring at me. "Don't be so sure, mom."

"What?" Alice exclaimed, her eyes wide. "Jasper, surely you aren't saying…"

"His emotions were haywire," Jasper disclosed. "That deep-rooted guilt, but with no trace of remorse… he's only felt that way once before, at least with me around. Don't you remember, Carlisle?"

He stood up, nodding, but he was skeptical. "It was so long ago, Jasper, before Bella was even alive. How could this possibly have something to do with her?"

Jasper opened his mouth to reply, but it seemed he had no response. "I… I don't know. Nothing is adding up."

"Look, I don't know what's going on with Edward. In fact, I don't even know what you're talking about. I'm sorry if I said something that upset him, but I'm not part of some conspiracy," I concluded. So maybe not all of what I said was true, but I had to get out of there before they found out my secret. "I think I should be going."

"Wait, Bella," Alice insisted. "Wasn't there a reason you came here in the first place?"

"Right, you wanted us to help you become a vegetarian," Emmett chimed in, lightening the mood.

"Vegetarian?" I snorted. "That's a bit… ironic."

The dimples in his cheeks appeared. "Tell me about it. Hey, let's take you out for your first lesson."

His words were like a piece of wood tossed into the fire in my throat — they made me remember, which only made it worse. I winced, glad that there were no humans around here for miles.

"Please," I agreed, standing up. Finally, I would have golden eyes like the rest of them. How hard could hunting animals possibly be?

"Hold on," a harsh voice protested. Rosalie hadn't spoken since I'd began my story. "That's it? She comes into our home, and suddenly we all trust her? She's a newborn, for goodness' sake!"

Carlisle placed a hand on her shoulder. "Rosalie, she's incredibly tame for a newborn, and she wishes to partake in our diet. I see no reason why we shouldn't trust her."

"Seriously, is Jasper the only sane one here? We _can't_ trust her. Honestly, can you not see that she's dangerous? She shouldn't be out on the streets, never less living with her father. And her eyes — they're bloody red! How has she been hiding those?" Rosalie's outburst seemed to have taken everyone aback. Yes, she had a point. Maybe what I was doing was reckless and foolish, but it was my only choice. If only she could see this my way; I had one year left with my father before I was on the run _forever_ , and all I was asking for was a chance to live the way they did.

Too bad I couldn't say any of those things.

I lowered my eyes, hurt and ashamed. "I… I was wearing sunglasses."

"See?" Rosalie cried out. "She can't wear sunglasses forever! How on Earth did she think she could pull that off?"

"Is there another way?" I asked quietly. In the short time I'd known the Cullens, I'd already been attacked physically and emotionally. I was really starting to regret listening to Giovanni.

"Contacts," Carlisle confirmed. "They obscure our vision and are mildly irritating, but necessary for newborns. You would have to replace them every few hours — the venom in our eyes burns through the lenses."

Rosalie huffed. "She's lucky the Volturi haven't gotten to her yet."

I stiffened, afraid that they would figure out my secret, and Esme seemed to notice my discomfort, although luckily not the reasons behind it. "Don't worry, honey. You haven't done anything wrong." She turned to Rosalie and scolded her gently. "Young lady, you are being awfully rude to our guest. Don't forget, you had Carlisle when you were turned to help you through it. Bella was alone. I'm quite sure you would have done the same in her situation."

Her mother's words must have gotten to her, because Rosalie immediately went silent and exited up the stairs. Emmett followed her with his eyes before sighing. "Sorry, Bells," he apologized. "I've got to go after my lady. Rein check on that lesson?"

I shrugged. "I suppose I can last another day." He grinned and ruffled my hair, and I made a face at him as he jogged up the steps, calling after her. Emmett was so easy to be friends with. I quickly patted my hair down.

"I'm sorry about her," Esme admitted. "She's not always so tenacious, at least not around family. She'll warm up to you eventually, since you'll be around a lot — learning our diet, of course." I grinned, and she leaned in close and whispered in my ear. "The way Edward looks at you, maybe someday you'll join us for good."

If I were human, I would have been bright red. Edward looking at me like that? But he was an Adonis, and my standards of beauty had changed since I'd set my eyes on Rosalie — compared to her, I may as well have been a sack of potatoes. Still, the thought of Edward… with me, well, they certainly stirred up feelings in my dead heart.

One of those feelings being worry. Yes, I was undeniably worried about him after he'd run away like that. And as much as I wanted to go to the meadow and find him, I knew I had to give him space to think things through, whatever was bothering him.

I caught sight of a clock. "Oh! Esme, I really should head home. Charlie will be waking up soon, and I wouldn't want him to find me gone." That wasn't exactly true, considering that the sun hadn't come up yet.

She didn't call my bluff. "Of course, dear. Would you like a ride home?"

Right now, I needed to clear my head and think things through. Already so much had changed, and I'd only been in Forks for a day. I shook my head. "No thanks, I'll run. It was lovely to meet you, Esme, Alice. And you Carlisle. I hope everything works out." I received a hug from Esme and a cheek kiss from Alice. Jasper kept his distance but nodded his head at me, which I reciprocated — I had sore feelings towards him, considering everything that had happened, but I couldn't really blame him. He was only trying to protect Alice. I'd only known her for a short time, but I would already do the same for her.

Carlisle pulled me in for a hug as well, which I did not expect. "I'm glad you found me, Bella. Promise me you'll do good for our son. He's been alone for far too long." Well, it seemed everyone had noticed something between Edward and I. I couldn't deny it either — even now I was struggling to not rush to him and comfort him.

But I couldn't promise to do good for him — at least not the way Carlisle wanted me to. I was leaving in just over a year, and I wouldn't take any of them with me. That was it. I had to learn the diet, leave, and try my absolute hardest to not get attached. And it seemed that falling for Edward and then leaving was not doing good for him. I wasn't good for him.

"I… I will." I promised. And if that meant staying away, no matter how I felt, then that was what I would do.


	14. Meet Me at Midnight

**My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter Fourteen: Meet Me at Midnight**

The sun had come up, but I didn't notice; its light was muted by the thick layer of clouds that loomed over the city of Forks. I rested, awake, on my purple comforter, as I had for the past hour, and the house remained eerily silent apart from Charlie's heavy snores.

The silence was broken by a deafening roar coming from the driveway, followed by two more heartbeats, quick and light, like a hummingbird's. Startled by the sudden noise, I ran to my window to see Billy Black being helped out of his truck by a dark-haired man — I couldn't see his face, but the back of his head seemed oddly familiar.

I made my way downstairs and opened the front door. Charlie had joined the men by the truck and was chatting animatedly with his oldest friend.

The wind changed direction then, and a pungent smell attacked my nostrils, the same smell that was in my apartment back in Florence where Jacob had disappeared: wet dog. Hope overpowered my disgust as I stared at the dark-haired man — could it be Jacob? Was that why he looked and smelled so familiar? He turned to me as the wind tossed my hair over my shoulder, his face carved in a repulsed expression, his nose winkled up.

It was Sam Uley. Memories flashed through my mind from last Christmas — Italy, the big tree, my fight with Jacob — and for some reason I couldn't explain, I felt a deep, primal hatred towards Sam. We glared at each other, holding our gaze as the wind passed, and then Sam turned and pulled Billy aside. The smell lingered in the air around my face.

Charlie beamed happily when he noticed me. "Bella, how do you like it?" My brows furrowed in confusion, and he chuckled, gesturing towards the truck. My jaw dropped.

"For me?" He nodded. "It's perfect!" I ran my fingers across the faded red paint and traced the scratches that ran along the sides. It really was perfect, just perfect, even though it could have been older than Carlisle.

I opened the front door and hopped in, revving up the engine. My suspicions were correct; the sound from this morning had been the truck and not a dying animal — one in the same. I grimaced, hoping it wouldn't attract too much attention at school — I would already have enough of that on my own.

There was a knock on the passenger window; it was Sam, hunched over so his face was level with the door. The scowl on his face hadn't disappeared, but I leaned over and cranked the window bar down, wincing at the high-pitched squeak it let out.

"What do you want, Sam?" I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. He was really the last person I wanted to talk to right now. Besides, I didn't want Charlie to get suspicious; looking over my shoulder, I saw that he was caught up in a story… and I was almost sure that I saw Billy give me a glare out of the corner of his eye. I sighed and turned back to Sam, staring at him expectantly. "Well?"

He ran his tongue over his dry, cracked lips and scowled. "Don't give me that tone, bloodsucker." I gasped, slapping my hand over my mouth. My body stiffened, freezing me in a mannequin state, running my venom cold. He smirked. "Cat got your tongue? Or maybe… bat?"

I swallowed hard, leaning back in my seat. "What do you want?" I repeated, my voice smaller now, scared. A thought ran through my head; kill him now. That was the scariest part of it, that I would even consider that, no matter how subconsciously. Balling up my fists, I glanced in the small mirror by the sun shield — my face was pale, white. I didn't know what to do, except shut him out and find Carlisle. Carlisle would know.

Leaning over to shut the window, I was stopped by Sam's strong hands. "Isabella," he began, his voice dropping to a quiet whisper. "Meet me at midnight. The clearing in the forest — you know what I'm talking about."

"Why should I listen to you?" His gaze bore against the side of my head, but I looked ahead. As he leaned closer, his hot breath fanned against my ear, making me queasy. I shivered in disgust, the primal hate bubbling up inside of me, and I had to hold myself back from tearing his throat out.

Then, he whispered five words, words that changed everything. I would do whatever he wanted just with the hope that those words were true. "Okay," I said, pulling my arms tighter around myself. "I'll meet you at the clearing."

"Midnight, sharp," he replied, scraping a line of dust off the sill and rubbing it between his fingers. He pushed off of his elbows, standing upright, and made his way back across the driveway. He paused and turned back. "Oh, and Bella," he yelled, cupping his mouth with his hands. "Bring your friends." He winked, and Billy gave him a dirty look as Sam helped him into my father's cruiser. Charlie came up to me.

"What was that about?" he asked, drumming his fingers against the roof. I shook my head, exasperated, and he pushed his hair out of his forehead. "Well, Bells, I'm just gonna drop those two off back at the Reservation, seeing as they did drive here in this," he smacked the truck, "and then I'm heading off to work, so I'll be home by dinner. See ya."

I muttered some things and watched him drive off, two glaring eyes following me as they melted into the road. Gripping the steering wheel, I pulled out of the driveway, tumbling down the unfamiliar path to Forks High. Still, at the front of my mind, those five words played over and over again in my mind, like a broken tape, driving me to the brink of insanity. Again, and again, and again…

 _I know where Jacob is._

* * *

Shambling down the gravelled pavement, I pulled into the parking lot with the smell of wet dog clinging to me and the leather seats; the stench of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint lingered in our trail. It had begun to rain on my way to school, and my only hope was that it would wash away the putrid scent, wherever it was coming from. Pulling the jacket hood up over my mud-coloured curls, I killed the engine and sat quietly in my seat. All around me, there was green and brown; I would fit here better than I did in Phoenix. The students dawdled around the parked cars, all decked in the same attire — black raincoat, black pants. As depressing as it was, this way I didn't have to worry about standing out.

I pulled my sunglasses over my blood red eyes before slipping out of the truck.

The second I came into view, everything changed. The humans huddled together when they saw me, whispering about my appearance, my persona — I should have known. They already knew who I was: the daughter of the chief's flighty ex-wife, the girl who had just lost her mother, the one who was just too perfect to be human. If only they knew, I'd lost everything else as well.

Right now, all I wanted was to be able to cry.

Honey-lilac-sun brushed against my nose, making me lift my head; Edward stood in front of me, trembling. His breathing was laboured, his arms were shaking, and he looked as if he was about to faint. "Bella," he breathed in relief, taking me into his arms. It was a warm embrace, but full of desperation. He held onto me, one hand clutching the back of my head and the other wrapped around my waist, and I let my eyelids fall over my eyes. We stayed there swaying for a moment in the pouring rain, and I never wanted to let go, but he pulled back, caressing my cheek with his thumb, brushing away the raindrops that fell down my cheeks like makeshift tears. His voice was soft, quiet, but faltered with the remnants of horrible panic as he whispered two words. "You're alive…"

"Edward," I breathed, touching his hand, light as a feather. My eyes, wide as saucers, hid behind dark lenses, staring up at him through the foggy rain. "What do you mean, alive?" He shook his head before hiding it in the crook of my neck, still shaking with fear, mumbling those words over and over again. His lips pressed against my cool skin as I held him close, our clothes sticking to our skin.

"Your future disappeared," Alice answered from behind, only loud enough for the two of us to hear. Edward sighed and let go just as Alice reached us. She wrapped her arms around me. "I'm so glad you're okay, Bella. I know we just met, but I feel like I've known you for months."

"Well, Alice, you kind of have, with your visions and all," Emmett cut in, using her head as an armrest. He smiled down at me. "Hey, Bells."

"Hold on, Emmett," I interrupted. "What did you just say? Visions? My future disappeared?"

He grinned. "Alice is psycho."

"I think you mean _psychic_ ," Alice corrected, brushing off his arm with a cute glare. She turned to me after glancing around shortly. "We're causing a scene. Come with me." I looked around; she was right. Every student in sight had their eyes glued to us. It looked like there was no chance of blending in now.

Alice lead the Cullens and I expertly through the halls of Forks High into a deserted classroom and locked the door. Jasper and Rosalie had joined us on the way, and Edward had stayed by my side, like he was afraid to get to far away. The whole way, questions were bubbling in my head. Alice was psychic? I had no idea that a coven with so many special abilities existed outside the Volturi — I would have imagined Aro to think of them as a threat.

As soon as the lock clicked, the questions fell from my lips. "How are you psychic, Alice? Why did my future disappear?"

Her smile faltered. "I… I don't know why your future disappeared. That's never happened before, unless…" She trailed off, rubbing the back of her neck. Jasper wrapped his arm around her comfortingly, and she leaned against him.

"Unless?" I urged, staring wide-eyed at her. "Alice?" My voice was heavy with panic and fear — either something was wrong with her power, or… with me. Edward laced his fingers through mine and squeezed my hand. When I looked up, his eyes were glassy.

"Unless you're… dead," he finished for her, his voice choked up. I nodded, caressing the back of his hand with my thumb.

"Something's wrong with me, isn't it?" I whispered, staring at my feet. "Something horrible is going to happen."

"No," he denied, lifting my chin. "Alice's vision are subjective. The future is not set in stone."

"So what are they based on? What decides which course the future goes on?"

Alice responded, "You do. Your decisions are what determine the future. You must have made a decision this morning, an important one… one that could get you killed." She rubbed her temples, groaning. "I can see you going home, making dinner, Charlie coming home, him going to sleep… then it all goes fuzzy. I see a window, trees… Bella." She looked up at me, sadly. "Then black. Everything disappears."

"Bells," Emmett began, taking a step forwards. "Where were you planning on going tonight?"

I hesitated — should I tell them? Sure, Sam told me to bring them, but was I willing to put them in a potentially dangerous situation?

"She's trying to decide if she should tell us," Jasper interrupted. Darn it, empath.

"Fine," I consented. "I'll tell you."

"Yes!" Emmett yelled, pumping his fists in the air. "We won."

"But," I continued, ignoring the pout on Emmett's face. "Not now."

Edward moved to object. "Bella-"

"Edward, hear me out." He sighed, but leaned back. "I'll tell you after school, once Carlisle gets home from work. That way I can tell you all at once. Deal?" He nodded, and I squeezed his hand in thanks. His eyes softened, and he looked into mine with a gentle gaze.

He let go of my hand and carefully removed the dark sunglasses that covered my red eyes. "You can't wear these to class. School policy."

I panicked, grasping his shoulders. "What do I do? I can't go out like this!"

"Don't worry," he answered, touching my chin with the back of his thumb. "Alice came prepared."

Emmett snorted. "Yeah, it's almost like she _knew_ this was going to happen." Alice glared at him and smacked him with a paper bag. "Ow, Ali! Too soon?"

She rolled her eyes and handed me the weapon. "There are four pairs. You'll need to change them every two hours because of the venom in your eyes. They'll be a bit irritating, and they'll obscure your vision, but at least your eyes will be brown again."

"Wait Alice, how did you- never mind. I think I get it." I took out a pair and placed one on the tip of my finger. "This'll be fun," I muttered under my breath, leaning against the wall.

Suddenly, Emmett's nose wrinkled up, and he leaned forward and sniffed me. "Ugh, Bella, you smell like… dog. Take a shower."

I glared at him. "Shut up, you big teddy bear."

* * *

No one spoke to me throughout the first four periods, but I could still hear them whisper. They didn't know this about me, but I could hear their words, their breaths, and even their heartbeats. Of course, my hearing was no match for Edward's; he could hear inside their heads. Their every thought, no matter how private, how secret, he could hear it. But me, I was more focused on the sound of the blood as it rushed through their veins — by second period, my teeth were dripping venom.

Maybe they didn't speak to me because they were scared. As far as I could tell, the humans didn't speak to vampires: me or the Cullens. The scene that Edward had caused in the morning probably hadn't helped, either. I had spent all of English Lit trying to come up with a cover story for that. Then again, I could just borrow one of the hundred stories that the humans had come up with.

As the lunch bell played through the speakers, a girl came up to me; I held my breath, swallowing the lump in my throat three times before it loosened. She was short, with coffee-coloured hair and blueish eyes, and despite her tiny stature she still seemed big — perhaps it was how high her hair was, or maybe her purple heels that made her seem that way. Her voice was high, squeaky.

"I'm Jessica," she greeted, her smile showing off a perfect row of teeth. In my head, I winced at the mention of the name; I could only think of Walker, of Crystal, of my old life. Although my smile probably looked more like a grimace, I held out a hand for her to shake. She ignored it and threw her arms around me — maybe her instinct was on a break. "Let me walk you to the cafeteria."

I shrugged, and she linked her arm through mine, prancing through the hall as I walked gracefully beside her. We reached the blue double doors that were held open by a stubby stopper, and she turned to me. She subtly slipped out of my grasp — she was scared, even if she didn't know it — and pursed her lips, opening her arms wide into the room, like a dramatic 'welcome to the cafeteria.' As she led me to her table, her ponytail swayed back and forth, and my eyes followed the motion. I shook my head, following her.

"This is Isabella Swan," Jessica introduced me to her friends, sitting us down at the end of the table in those blue plastic chairs. I watched the ones called Mike and Eric eye me up and down, and then Jessica — I could tell they were wondering if she was crazy to talk to me, but they probably didn't mind my being there either.

Angela, the quiet one with a sweet smile, gasped. "Oh, Isabella! I'm sorry about your mother."

"It's okay," I replied. It wasn't okay, not really, but what else could I say? "And please, call me Bella."

It was then that _they_ walked through the doors: the Cullens. They were beautiful as always, Rosalie especially as she sent a glare in my direction. I sighed and turned back to the table, only to notice that the humans were all looking at me. Of course, the Cullens had to have something to do with this unnecessary attention.

"So," Jessica, who seemed to be the only one of them with guts, began. "Are you _with_ them?"

"Jess! That's rude," Angela scolded before she turned to face me. "I think what she meant to ask was, do you know the Cullens?"

"Bunch of freaks," Mike muttered under his breath, thinking that I couldn't hear him — heck, the _Cullens_ could hear him, from the other side of the cafeteria. Emmett let out a quiet snort.

"I don't know them," I answered honestly, leaning back in my hard plastic chair. I really didn't know them. "Not well, at least. My father is friends with theirs."

"Then what was the parking lot incident about?" Lauren, the snobby one, sneered, propped up on the table by her elbows. "Edward seemed… happy to see you. So happy he was crying."

"Well," a velvety voice responded from behind me. I turned around in my chair to see Edward leaning against it, frown embedded in his face. He was still beautiful. "I was happy to see her. We hadn't spoken in a while — it almost felt like an eternity." He grinned a toothy grin, and I let out a small laugh. If anyone was happy to see anyone, it was me with him. Edward's frown returned, somewhat insincere this time, and he looked down at the girls. "Oh, and my goldfish died."

They wore matching faces of horror and babbled on about how sorry they were, and I had to hold back my hysterical laughter — if Edward's goldfish had died, it would have been because Emmett had _eaten_ it. Yes, that seemed accurate. Trying to mask a smile, I glanced at Edward; his eyebrows were practically a part of his hairline, now. He held out his hand for me.

"Come on," he whispered, just loud enough for the humans to hear. They hung on to his every word. "Sit with my family and I. We could catch up?" I nodded and took his hand, waving goodbye to the slack-jawed humans, and allowed him to help me up. On our way to his table, I momentarily wondered what century his pleasant manners were from — and then I remembered the night before.

"Wait," I called, stopping us in the center of the cafeteria, just out of the humans' hearing range. "What happened last night? You just ran off after I finished my story." The Cullens sat up, listening — apparently he hadn't told them either.

"Not now, Bella," he responded, eyeing his family a few feet away before returning to me. "Trust me, now is _not_ a good time."

My lips parted, but I didn't know what to say, except, "Okay." We walked the few feet in silence, only to be met with the same by his family. Cold, hard silence. Some catching up we were doing.

Then Alice's eyes glazed over, and the silence became even quieter.

* * *

"And you're _sure_ this was worth skipping biology for?" I complained, following Alice into the empty parking lot.

"Yes, certain," she replied cheerily, snapping her fingers at Edward. "Keys, brother?"

"Not a chance, _sis_ ," he replied, opening the passenger seat door for her. She pouted but got it, her little fists balled up.

"At least you get shotgun," Emmett grumbled, climbing into the back seat of the silver Volvo. He barely fit; his head was bent over and his neck was pressed against the roof. Rosalie slid in gracefully beside him, followed by Jasper — both had scowls formed on their lips. Edward walked me to my truck, leaning against the side.

"Carlisle will be home soon," he explained, watching me fumble with my key ring. "The sooner we speak with him the better."

"I guess," I breathed out as he opened the door for me, and I slid in. "Thank you, Edward." He grinned in reply and shut the door, giving me a quick wave before making his way back to the Volvo.

I followed the car through the barren roads of Forks and onto a trail that seemed to lead right into the forest, through the twists and turns of the winding city. The forest path was familiar — the same one from the night before. The roaring engine drowned out the stream of running water, but my vampire ears picked up on it, indicating that we were near. Soon we broke through the trees into the clearing, and there, just as I remembered it, stood the tall white house. Dirt ran through the tires of my truck, and I killed the engine.

Standing in the doorframe, Esme had a worried expression on her face. It was unfitting — she seemed like one to always be wearing a smile. Of course, there were always parts of a person hidden underneath, parts that you could never understand. She descended down the patio steps, greeting Edward at the bottom by taking him into her arms. After hopping out of the truck, I made my way over to them.

"Bella, dear!" she exclaimed, welcoming me into her embrace. "Alice called and told me. Oh, thank goodness you're okay!"

Reminded of the situation, I gave her a weak smile. "Hello, Esme. Is Carlisle-"

I was cut off by the growing roar of an engine as Carlisle pulled into the driveway. He slid out of the car, slamming the door behind him in his haste. He was clad in a long fur coat, and his slick blond hair was pulled back smoothly. "Bella," he breathed out, hurrying over to me, and held my arms. "How are you?"

"I'm alive," I responded, tracing the dirt lines on the ground with my gaze. I looked up. "You all want to know, right? What's causing a rift in my future?" They nodded simultaneously, and Edward's hand brushed mine comfortingly.

"Go ahead, Bella," Carlisle urged.

I took a deep breath. "I'm going to throw myself to the wolves."


	15. To Never Lie is My Promise

**My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter Fifteen: To Never Lie is my Promise**

Edward stopped breathing; his hand, which had been trembling slightly, was now without the scarcest movement, and his voice came out like a strangled gasp. "You know?" he asked, lips vibrating like he was humming a song. My brows formed a perfect arch above my worried red eyes, and I placed a hand on his muscular arm.

"Edward?" I asked, concern laced through my voice. I looked; the rest of his family wore the same expression as he. "What did I say? What do I know?" His eyes widened, and he quietly muttered a curse under his breath, loud as a bell tower to my ears and everyone else's. Esme couldn't even find it in her to scold him. He nervously ran his fingers through his bronze hair, and I averted my eyes, trying not to imagine doing the same. Darn it, I had more important things to worry about, like his mental wellbeing.

Edward sighed and rubbed his temples. "Fine, Carlisle. Tell her."

"Tell me what?" I replied, frustrated. Whipping on my heels, I turned to Carlisle and gave him an impatient glance. "What's going on? I haven't even said anything yet!"

"Bella," he began, hesitant. "Why don't you tell us where you are going first?"

I rolled my eyes and shrugged. "Fine. I'm going to meet Sam Uley and Billy Black." They all froze; I couldn't help but admire their beauty, each like their own perfect statue. Still, they were starting to really tick me off.

"What?" Edward hissed, taking hold of my arm. "Why on Earth would you do that?"

"They know about me." I thought back to Sam's comment outside my truck, right before he'd left, the sly beast: _Bring your friends._ He'd been talking about the Cullens then, which meant… "And they know about you. I'm so sorry — I don't have a clue how he figured it out!" Guilt rattled through me; I was taking them down by my side already, and the Volturi hadn't even figured me out yet.

Carlisle and Edward exchanged knowing glances, like they knew the answers to all of my questions — it was possible, since they'd been here so much longer than I, that they were familiar with the reservation. I stared at them pointedly, waiting for them to respond.

"Bella," Carlisle said, his posture rigid and his voice on edge. "We have to tell you something. But first thing's first — there is no way that you are going there alone. We will accompany you." He gestured between Edward and himself.

Emmett piped in. "And me! There's no way I'm going to miss a fight."

"And I could help with my visions," added Alice, resting her tiny palm, her future-telling palm, on her father's shoulder.

Carlisle frowned. "Emmett, there will be no fighting — am I clear?" Emmett nodded solemnly, but his resolve to come with us was unwavering. "Alice, your visions will be very helpful if — and I mean _if_ — a fight does break out."

"They would be if they actually worked," muttered Rosalie, her long and slender arms crossed over her chest. Tiny Alice glared at her, an amusing sight that managed to retain some of the intended scariness — some _,_ yet just enough. Rosalie, in a seemingly endless temper, huffed and turned away.

"Hold on," I interrupted, throwing my hands into the air. "I hate to ask the dumb questions, but why are we worried? Couldn't you guys just kick their sorry human butts?"

"Yeah, if they were human," Emmett replied sarcastically, flexing his biceps. "You know I can kick their sorry _wolf_ butts all the same." My breath caught in my throat, and Emmett's eyes widened. He cursed loudly. "Not the best way to say that."

The air shifted, and the clouds thickened in the sky, casting shadows onto us so far below. "What did you just say?" I whimpered, throat tightening. If my heart was still beating, it would have stopped right then. No, I wouldn't believe it. Sam was as human as the rest of them. "Why?"

Carlisle approached, sparing a moment to shoot a disappointed look at Emmett. He bowed his head. "Hold on," the yellow-haired man, wary, pleaded. "We're telling you the truth. The men of the reservation, they are shape-shifters."

"No," I protested, refusing to look him in the eye. Golden eyes were sure to weaken my resolve. "Those men are perfectly human. I know — I grew up with them. You can't just tell me they're not and expect me to believe you."

Edward appeared in front of me and grasped my hands, his coldness unnervingly warm, his touch unnervingly electric. Everything about him was unnerving, especially how good he felt, and how good my name sounded on his tongue. "Bella," he said like music, "I'll make you a promise now to make you believe me, okay?" Shaking, I nodded. "I promise, Bella Swan, to never lie to you. Now I have to say it; those men are—"

"Don't say it," I whispered, staring at our feet. "Don't say it and make it true."

He took one hand from mine and grazed it against my cheek, brushing my hair from my eyes. "You believe me when I say I'll never lie to you?" I nodded, looking up at him through my eyelashes. He was so tall. "Okay, then. I'll say something else that's true; everything's going to be okay." He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close to his chest like the fragile girl I was, and I immersed myself in him: his warmth, his smell, his embrace. I stopped trembling.

"Thank you," I mumbled against his cotton shirt, pressing my lips softly against his collarbone. He shivered slightly, and my face flushed with make-shift blood. Standing on my toes, I rested my chin on his shoulder and sighed. It was so comfortable. His hands found my waist, steadying me. I pulled back and looked him in the eyes, still wrapped in his embrace. I whispered, "Jacob, too?"

He nodded, solemn. I blinked away the 'tears' and sighed. He bit his lip. "I know. Everything is changing. Everything you thought is…"

I sniffled.

"Different now," he finished, rubbing my arm comfortingly. He wasn't wrong; nothing was the same. He was here, and that was new. Good new.

His golden eyes shone as they wandered over my face, and my red ones stared back at him. We were different, from each other, from the rest of the world. Still, every part of him seemed to fit with me.

I'd come to a conclusion. "Different doesn't always have to mean bad."

* * *

Promises meant nothing to me now. Promises were useless, and they always would be. If I'd kept a list of every promise I'd made, every promise someone had made for me, the list would be a mile long. If a made another list, one of the unbroken 'you-have-my-word's, it would be an inch.

But Edward's promise? It had it's own list. My entire heart believed his words the second they left his mouth, blindly trusting, unwavering, and nothing had ever scared me more than the fact that this man, whom I'd known for hours in the double-digits, had such a power over me. All I could hope was that he would use the power for good instead of evil.

Good and evil… was there such a thing? Those creatures known as evil, vampires and werewolves, now seemed so real, so vulnerable: kind Giovanni, the tortured expression on his winsome face as he rotted away in the cell; innocent Jacob who'd disappeared and no one had seemed to care but I. Oh, Jacob… I never could have known. But now, with the information I had, it all fell into place, all the pieces of the complicated puzzle.

Sam's surprise visit…

 _We broke apart when a bulky hand came to rest on Jacob's shoulder with the intent of gaining his attention, causing him to turn around and face its owner. He was a tall man, rising above my 5"4' by at least a foot, with a well-built figure and caramel skin. Under cropped black hair, his mature features were familiar to me, but I couldn't quite pinpoint a name, although I was certain I'd seen him before. I glanced at Jake's face to gauge his reaction, hoping that the man was one of his friends. His countenance remained cautious._

 _"_ _Sam," he greeted with a polite nod in his direction. At the mention of his name, memories flooded my brain — Sam Uley, from the reservation back in Forks. What was he doing here?_

 _"_ _Jacob," Sam replied. "And Bella. How lovely to see you again." His voice was not pleasant but a little friendlier, yet full of authority and emotion. "Listen, Jacob, a bunch of us are heading down to Volterra to_ check out the shops _again," he explained, his eyes darting to me before focusing back on Jake. "And you need to come with us this time." Jacob eyed him warily and nodded without question. Sam Uley clearly had power._

Billy's cryptic messages…

 _My hands shook as I held the phone to my ear. "He—" I gulped. "He just… fell apart. Like all of his muscles relaxed at the same time." I worried my bottom lip, my eyes wet and glassy with tears._

 _I could almost hear Billy's frown over the phone. "Bella… I don't know how to tell you this," He paused, thinking before continuing. "He's… he's not—"_

 _"_ _I'm calling an ambulance." I interrupted, moving to hang up, when I heard him yell from the receiver._

 _"_ _NO!" I froze at the cutting acidity in his voice, the underlying authority, and lifted the phone back to my ear. "Isabella, listen to me. Do not call the police. Leave the apartment—"_

 _"_ _What?" I cried out. "I can't and won't leave Jacob like this."_

 _There was a moment's hesitation before Billy continued, like he'd been trying to decide on something. His voice was quiet, a warning. "He'll be fine. Leave immediately. You are not safe there, Isabella."_

The revelation on the plane…

 _"_ _Mom, you look upset."_

 _She walked up beside me and held my hand. "I just don't want you to be alone right now." Oh… "That's why I've asked Billy to send Jacob with you."_

 _What?_

 _"_ _What?" I asked, immediately sitting up, to the discontentment of the nurse. "Jake's coming with me? What about school?"_

 _"_ _His school on the Reservation has the same program going on for next semester as a way of, how did Billy put it, 'inducing the phasing'? Strange one he is."_

The scene of the crime…

 _When I arrived, Jacob's bedroom door was wide open, and there was a dent in the wall beside it in the shape of the door handle. His shorts were on the floor of his room, tattered and ripped to shreds. I crouched by them and inspected the rips. They were like nothing I'd seen before, as if he'd just… exploded out of them? I rubbed my throbbing temples — none of this made any sense._

 _I stood and called out for him. "Jacob? Where are you?" No answer. Panic started to rise, and I grabbed my phone to call. No answer. That was when I noticed a shard of plastic on the ground, and I followed the trail to the wall, where the remains of his phone laid at my feet. "Ugh!" I cried out, frustrated, and tossed my phone onto his bed. There was nothing I could do to contact him. Nothing._

Like pieces of a puzzle, everything fit into place. It all suddenly made sense — both Jacob and Sam smelled the same, like _wet dog_. They were shape-shifters, wolves, _mutts_. We were mortal enemies, Jacob and I, werewolves and vampires. How unbelievably cliché.

You'd think the chances were less than slim, but here we were. Well, here I was. Jacob was still missing — not for long, though. Tonight would be the night that I would find out where he was, and I would find him.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Edward offered, coming to sit beside me. We were outside, sitting on the oakwood porch. My elbows rested on my knees, chin in my palms, and Edward mimicked my position, cocking his head to the side inquisitively.

I frowned at the floor, tracing the darker lines of the wood with my toe. "You'd need a lot more than a penny."

"So like a nickel?" he added, mocking me. A smile, involuntary, spread across my cheeks, and his own mirrored mine. "There's that smile. I've been waiting for it. You know it takes a lot more muscles to frown than it does to smile."

I bit the inside of my cheek and tried to push my lips downward. "Well then, I guess I'm just exercising my face muscles." He took one look at me and covered his mouth with the back of his hand — I could see him shaking. "Hey! Don't laugh at me."

"Sorry," he chuckled, leaning towards me. "You just looked so ridiculous." He cupped my cheek in his hands, smoothing out the frown lines with his thumb; I relaxed into his touch.

"You know a lot," I murmured contentedly under my breath.

"Years of experience," he replied, his voice quiet and heavy. His thumb ran over my lips, and I kissed it softly. He closed his eyes and sighed.

I wanted to know more about this man in front of me, the one holding my face like a precious figurine. "How many years?"

He smiled without opening his eyes. "Too many." I touched his hand, the other one, and he opened his eyes, searing with passion. "It's a long story."

"Tell me."

He frowned. "You're seventeen. I wonder if my age will upset you."

"Try me," I replied, holding his large hand in both of mine. His skin was hard, cold, yet somehow soft and warm. Nothing made sense around him.

He hesitated but, when he looked into my eyes, he must have seen something there that encouraged him. "I was born in Chicago in 1901." He glanced sideways at me, and I smiled — he'd been worried for nothing. Edward sighed in relief, contented with my reaction, and relaxed into his story. "It was 1918, and I was dying of the Spanish Influenza."

He must have heard my sharp intake of breath, because he paused and looked at me, concerned. Taking I deep breath, I urged him to continue. He did, but not before tightening his grip on my hands.

"Carlisle found me in a hospital and turned me. He saved my life; I owe it to him. He gave me this power."

"Your mind reading?"

His eyes widened at my words. "You figured it out?"

"It wasn't too difficult." I shrugged. "Carlisle speaks to you like that a lot. It's like second nature to you two. And Jasper's empathy, well that just ticks me off."

He gazed at me in awe. "You see more than most people."

I smiled at him. "You hear more than most people." He chuckled, and I bit my lip. "Can you continue the story?"

He nodded. "I was seventeen and dying, but I'd already lost everything — there wasn't much left to live for. I was all alone before he found me."

"Your parents?"

"Dead," he answered without missing a beat. "I was alone. That was why he chose me. In all the chaos of the epidemic, no one would realize I was gone."

I tried not to cry, but I couldn't. Not since I knew how he felt. My mother was gone, but I still had my father. I'd been wrong before — he understood me perfectly, but I wouldn't understand him for another hundred years. The thought saddened me.

He noticed and pulled me into him. "Don't cry, sweet Bella," he hummed, running his fingers through my knotted hair. "My story has a happy ending."

"What about mine?" I asked softly, playing with his fingers. Edward gazed into my eyes, and I into his, and we fell into a lovely haze as he held me close and my imaginary tears dried on my cheeks.

"Edward," Jasper interrupted, emerging from the house. We turned around to see him, decked in camouflage jeans and a tight black t-shirt.

Edward raised his eyebrows. "Alice?"

He nodded begrudgingly, shooting me a quick glance before looking back at his brother. "Carlisle said the girl should go home and put her father to sleep."

"I do have a name, Jasper," I piped in, removing myself from Edward and standing up. I dusted off the dirt on my legs. "It's Bella, but you knew that." Grabbing my coat off of the railing, I pulled my keys from the pocket. "Carlisle's right. Charlie will be home from work soon."

Alice appeared from the house in a little black dress, a huge smile spread across her face. "Bella!" she squealed, twirling around. "Don't you love this dress? It's perfect for a heist!"

"Come on, Alice," Emmett mocked from behind her. "We're going to meet the wolves, not to rob a jewelry store." She whacked him over the head with her tiny fist.

"It's a pretty dress," I conceded before making my way down the porch steps. Edward followed me and opened the door to my truck. I stepped inside, and he leaned down so I could see his face.

"You know the plan?" he asked as I fastened my seat belt. I nodded.

"Meet you here at 11:45 pm. Got it." Pushing the door shut, he leaned against the sill of the rolled-down window.

"Goodbye, Bella."

I grinned. "See you tonight, Edward."

* * *

"Aren't you going to eat, Bella?" Charlie asked, frowning. I was distracted, thoughts of the meeting swirling around in my mind, and my fingers were pushing the fork around the plate, making a mush out of the lasagne that I'd prepared. Not to mention I was trying to block out his _oh-so-manly_ floral scent that was about to set me off.

"Huh?" I answered, snapping out of my thoughts. Looking down, I could see that the plate was full. "No, I'm not hungry. I ate a lot at lunch today." _But I am thirsty._

Charlie cleared his throat. "Speaking of which, I got a call from the school today." I froze, my eyes widening. I'd forgotten about skipping the last two periods of the day — there were more important things to think about.

"Oh, yeah. I was feeling kind of sick," I replied, biting my lip. "Probably food poisoning."

He sighed and rubbed his black moustache. "They let it slide since it was your first day, but Bella — what's going on? Is this something I should be worried about?"

"No," I insisted, standing up with my plate. Pushing the leftovers into a plastic container, I opened the fridge. "I promise, it was a one-time thing. Food poisoning." Another promise, another lie, but I didn't have a choice. I shoved the container into the empty fridge, making a mental note to go grocery shopping for Charlie. I eyed the half-full jar labelled grocery money on the kitchen counter and visualized a roasted salmon.

"Alright, if you say so," he replied, cutting himself another piece of lasagne. He paused and looked at me. "Bella, I'm really trying to be a dad. I hope you know that." I smiled tightly in response, tidying up the counter with a sea green rag before excusing myself up to my room. "Night Bells," he called after me as I hurried up the stairs.

"Night, dad."

Staring at the clock seemed to make time go by slower. Sounds came from downstairs that matched the flicker of the television, and more that sounded like cracking open a beer, or two, or three. He never came upstairs, and the TV kept playing through the night. The only thing that quieted were his loud screams at the screen, which faded into silence as he passed out on the couch.

His words echoed in my head, _I'm really trying to be a dad,_ as I stared at the framed picture on my bedside table, one that had been there before I arrived: Charlie, Renee, and one-month old Bella. I traced the outline of my mother's beautiful face, much younger than how I remembered her. There were no wrinkles or laugh lines; still, she seemed miserable. She really had stopped loving Charlie, but he'd never stopped loving her, not even after she'd died.

My eyes drifted back to the small, palm-sized clock propped up by my ancient computer; it read 11:30 pm. I slipped off of my bed and descended down the stairs, making my way over to my father. In the dark, his face was illuminated by the blueish light of the TV. He was sprawled across the tattered couch, his mouth hanging open, his breath stinking of alcohol. After covering him with a blanket and pushing the power button on the remote, I filled a glass with water and placed it on the coffee table. He would need it in the morning.

Sweeping the empty beer cans into a garbage bag, I crept up to the front door and pulled it open. I didn't really have to worry about being noisy; he was out like a light. Leaving the truck behind — I didn't want to push my luck with the engine — I ran through the forest and towards the Cullen house. I reached by exactly 11:45 pm.

"Punctual, I see," commented Edward as I came to a stop. "You know, you might just be faster than me."

"Might be?" Emmett snorted, slapping his knee. He was dressed in all black with a floppy beanie on his head that was just a little too small. "I'd bet my jeep that she's faster."

"I'm a newborn," I reminded him when I saw the annoyed look on Edward's face. "If I wasn't, Edward would beat me. Hands down."

He relaxed and threw an arm over my shoulder. "Sorry. I get a bit competitive."

"I can see that, Edward." Grinning at him, I heard the others pouring out of the house. We all gathered in the driveway, facing Carlisle, waiting for him to speak. The darkness was eerie, ominous, and I inched closer to Edward and leaned against him.

Carlisle's gaze passed over each of us, landing on me. He took a deep breath and began. "The shape-shifters have returned to the reservation. Their alpha, Ephraim Black's descendant, is missing, so I assume the Uley boy has taken command. We must reenact the treaty, meet them at the treaty line." I remembered the story that they had told me before about how they had come to Forks decades ago and established a treaty not to trespass on each other's grounds. "Alice, how are your visions coming along?"

She sighed. "Nothing past when we arrive at the treaty line. It all goes black."

"Edward?"

"Thoughts are still loud and clear," he responded, before gazing down at me and smiling. "Well, most of them." Then he winced, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. "I wasn't talking about you, Emmett, and I really didn't need to see that."

The muscled man snickered and pulled his lady close; I didn't even want to imagine the image he had sent Edward.

Carlisle, trying to hide his amusement, continued. "Well, if you two are finished, we should probably be heading out." Edward shot Emmett another glare before taking my hand.

Taking a deep breath, I spoke up. "Thank you." They all turned to me. "All of you, thank you for doing this. It's still hard for me to believe that my second family are shape-shifters, but I think I'll get through it."

With that, we set off into the forest in search of the treaty line. It was invisible, in our imaginations stretching across the grassy forest floor. We emerged from the trees into a clearing, square-shaped, and Alice stopped.

"This is where everything goes black," she whispered, holding onto Jasper for dear life. The air was tense, fearful as we waited for what we didn't know to expect. Only Edward and Carlisle had seen the wolves before, and never had Alice's vision done something like this — it was new territory for all of us.

Suddenly, from behind the trees emerged four dark-coloured creatures, tall as horses, built like bears yet thicker, more muscular, with dagger-like claws. Their snarls, like prolonged cracks of thunder, jetted out into the open black sky, echoing into the city. Then poked out a wheel, and then another, and suddenly Billy was there, in his heavy silver wheelchair. But it wasn't Billy that provoked a gasp from my burning throat; no, it was the man pushing him towards us.

So Sam hadn't been lying — he really did know where Jacob was.


	16. Hot and Cold

**My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter Sixteen: Hot and Cold**

His russet skin glistened in the moonlight that broke through the trees, unlike his muddy eyes. They were rocks — hard, emotionless, caked in something brown. I looked at the man in front of me, because that's what he was, and tried hard to find the _boy_ inside of him, the one who'd wrapped a bandaid around my bleeding finger back at Green Acres' gate.

His hair was cropped shorter now, up behind his ears, and I twirled a lock of my own between my fingers, picturing his long black mane on this new body, reminiscing. In a moment of silence, I watched him intently, soaking up every one of his features, memorizing the lines of his matured face. He was taller now, almost two feet above Alice, and he towered over his seated father.

Blood rushed through his veins, and the smell hit me hard; it was disgusting, unappetizing, like if I drank it I would be forced to throw it back up. His dark cheeks were painted a bright red, his whole face in fact, and I singled out his heartbeat amongst the crowd of five — at least three times the normal speed, it raced like he'd just run a marathon, the intense friction radiating heat. Was it because of me, or was he just like this now? The air around him was scalding, like it was about to catch fire, but Edward's icy hand in mine kept my body cool. I held onto it tightly, my life boat.

Disbelief flared up inside of me, mixing with betrayal and sadness, creating a brew of bitter emotions that seethed beneath my skin. He was alive — _Jacob was alive_. Acid tears sprung to my eyes, a little bit furious, miserable, ready to explode, and the cast of his face broke in two; his straight lips collapsed into a frown, and his hard eyes softened, wet with tears, salty. I wished with all of my dead heart that I could cry again.

"Bells," he began with the endearing name like dipping his toe into cold water. He took a step into the moonlit clearing. The light finally hit his glassy eyes, shimmering against them, transforming the mud into a dark chocolate, and I saw _him,_ the _boy_. His desperate voice swept away the sadness, cast aside the fury, and a grin broke out on my face.

"Jake," I breathed out, breaking into a dash. In a second, I was meters ahead, standing at the edge of the invisible treaty line, trapped behind it like a glass door, only I couldn't press my nose up against it, beat the glass with my fist, because there was nothing holding me back, yet still everything. He met me there, in the middle. I whispered quietly, "It's you."

"Yeah," he replied, his toes an inch from mine, bare, wiggling in the dampened grass. "It's me."

My smile faltered as I realized something. "You're a… w-werewolf?"

"Shape-shifter," he corrected, his voice quiet, small… upset? "You're a vampire." Flinching at his casual use of the word, I nodded, even though it had been more a statement than a question. His face was sad, resigned. "Destined to be mortal enemies, huh? Guess we always knew we'd end up this way."

Groundless anger welled up inside of me — it felt like he was just giving up, and the words I hadn't wanted to say just spilled from my lips. "This is your fault, Jacob! You're the reason we ended up like this." I didn't regret saying any of it when his fighting spirit rose to the surface.

"I'm the reason?" he cried out, balling up his fists, towering over me. Memories of our fight at school came rushing back, the same emotions, _fear_ of him, betrayal. "I was mad at you for a reason, Bella! You kept something so big from me, something I had a right to know!"

"You were a child!" I retorted, hurt by his accusations. "It would have killed you to know the truth! You wouldn't even have understood, Jacob."

"I wouldn't have?" He was quiet now, anger simmering like boiling water. "It was _your_ fault, Bella, all of it. That much I understood from what I read." _The diaries._

Venom pooled in my eyes, make-shift tears, and my voice cracked. " _All of it_ was my fault? _"_ Broken bones, hospitals, popping pills… he nodded, face flushed with rage. My throat closed up, knot growing, and all I wanted was to be able to cry again.

"Bella," Edward whispered from all the way by the trees, breaking me out of my trance. He was too far. My eyes darted from him to Jacob, and I finally turned away and ran into Edward's embrace. He held me close, hands cupping the back of my head, gently stroking my hair. I relaxed into him, our bodies fitting together like they were meant to be, and I let go of my sorrow, of my anger towards the _mutt_ , and just took in the perfect man holding onto me.

"Can we go?" I said softly into his shirt, sniffing. He nodded and turned to Carlisle, probably communicating in his head, before releasing me and gently taking my arm. He led me through the clearing.

"Bella," Jacob's voice called out, harsh and furious. He wouldn't let this go. I didn't look back, because I knew what I would see — my "mortal enemy," my best friend, a man I didn't know but I'd known forever. Instead I focused on the man beside me — a stranger, a vampire like myself, a man I knew so well already who I'd only known for days, even countable by hours… Edward. His name was like music, even in my thoughts, and I smiled softly to myself, glad he couldn't hear them. It must have been driving him crazy, my being silent. Or maybe he enjoyed it, being able to be with someone without knowing their every thought, feeling as normal as he ever would… maybe he was thinking these things in that moment. I would never know, and I was okay with that.

Edward looked down at me; just like Jacob, he was a head taller than me. Only with him, I felt safe, protected. His pale white skin glistened in the moonlight that broke through the trees, shimmering even in the absence of sunlight, and his golden eyes were the stars. We stopped a few miles from the clearing, well away from anyone else, in the dead of the dark green forest. Finding a rock, we plopped ourselves down on it and rested.

It was silent for a moment, and the cold air swirled around us. My skin was almost warm as I sat beside Edward, wrapped in his arms, as close to sleep as I would ever be. I'd never been more human than when I was with him; it was like nothing was impossible. Closing my eyes, I rested against his shoulder, staring into his starry eyes, and he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, catching my cheek with his thumb as he wiped away an imaginary tear. Knowing what was coming, I took a deep, shaky breath, my lips trembling.

"Go ahead," I whispered, dropping my eyes to the rough surface of the blue-grey rock, running my palm along the jagged stone. "Ask me. I know you're dying to."

He sighed, combing my hair gently with his fingers. "I don't want to."

"Yes you do."

"Okay, I do," he responded, brushing my brown locks from one side to the other, taking a deep breath. He lifted my chin, pressing down on it lightly with his thumb, brushing my bottom lip. My lips parted, and my breathing was laboured at his touch. He bit his lip, eyes slowly panning up and down my face. "What was he talking about when he said… you know."

I sighed. "It's a long story."

"You don't have to-"

"I want to," I interrupted, taking a deep breath. Before speaking, I took his large hand in both of mine and squeezed it tightly — when did I get so comfortable around him? I began the story that had never passed my lips. "I've lived in Phoenix since I was six. The first few years were terrible — I was all alone, I didn't fit in, and I was the only one with pale skin. My classmates didn't just ignore me, either. They were determined to make my life a living hell." I absentmindedly traced the lines on the back of his hand, following the cold, blue veins that ran under his pale skin, devoid of the blood that they needed to have a purpose, flowing with lethal venom instead. He shivered, and I looked up, startled. He gulped and nodded for me to continue, watching my hands.

"In third grade, Tessa moved to Arizona. She was from France, sun-kissed, beautiful. Prettier than me, obviously." His fingers stiffened, but I ignored him, as well as the tingly feeling in my chest. "She had everything I wanted — tan skin, natural blond hair, pretty green eyes swirled with grey. Tess could have been friends with anyone, but she chose me, and I'll never understand why. If she could go back in time now, I'm certain she would have changed her mind." Edward's jaw clenched, and he opened his mouth, but I shook my head and pleaded with my eyes for him to just listen. He didn't try to interrupt me again, not for a while.

"They kept teasing me after we became friends, but I stopped responding — I had someone now, and I didn't care what they said or did. Eventually, they stopped, and I'd never been happier. What I didn't know was that they'd moved on to an easier target, one who wasn't used to being treated that way.

"She stopped wearing tank tops and shorts, traded them in for sweatpants and oversized hoodies. Silly me, I didn't notice how thin she was getting, or the bruises on her arms, or the fact that she wore sunglasses indoors to hide her red eyes. I believed her when she told me that her broken leg was from falling down the stairs. Sure, she was a good actress, a good liar, but she was also like my sister — I should have known. She still had everything I wanted, but now she had nothing _she_ wanted, and nothing she had seemed so important to me anymore, now that I was happy.

"It was her thirteenth birthday, and she'd just been released from the hospital after falling down the stairs, or so she said. I remember giving her a little cupcake with a candle in it, and our families singing her happy birthday by the fireplace, her leg in a cast, propped up on the coffee table. She looked sincerely happy in that moment as she blew out the flame; no one was that good of an actor. If she was, she should have moved to Hollywood. She stayed in the living room as her mom led us to the door; I was shouting goodbye over my shoulder as my mom dragged me out — I wouldn't go any other way. She was smiling as the square corner cut her from my view, but her eyes were sad, and I didn't know why. Still, I ignored the nagging feeling in my stomach as my mom and I stepped out onto the snowy ground, sinking ankle-deep into the crisp, white snow as we trudged home in our rubber boots.

"I came back the next day, excited to tell her about the book I'd started the night before. I'd come on my own — my mother was asleep in her bed since it was early on a Sunday morning — and I'd forgotten my coat in my haste. I did notice the lines of police cars lining the streets, the ambulance out back, but… they _couldn't_ have been there for Tessa. That was impossible. When I arrived, I knocked loudly on the door three times, shaking in my boots, not to mention shivering. Her mom opened the door.

"I remember exactly what she looked like in that moment: black shawl wrapped around her shoulders, bloodshot eyes, trembling like she'd seen a ghost. When she saw me, she broke down. Her husband, just as broken, pulled me inside and shut the door. There was dread... my heart was just heavy with dread — it's the worst feeling, indisputable. My throat closed up like I was having an allergic reaction, and I couldn't breathe. When he told me…" I stopped, full-on shaking in Edward's arms. I'd never told this story before, not to Charlie, not even to Jacob. Why was I telling Edward? There was this feeling inside of me, this urge to tell him everything and to have him do the same. He held me even closer, if that was possible, and cupped the back of my head as I dry-sobbed into his chest — I thought I even felt him shaking.

He sniffled lightly. "Stop it, Bella, please. You're torturing yourself."

"I know," I whispered, swallowing hard. "I'm starting to think I'm a masochist." He smiled despite himself and drew circles on the back of my head. We sat in silence for a moment in the damp forest, sitting on the hard rock, the smell of honey floating in the air around us. I was tired of talking — if I was human, my throat would have been sore — but I kept on, breaking the silence. "She overdosed on her painkillers."

"Bella—"

"Edward, I have to." He nodded hesitantly, like he didn't understand, but he knew it was important for me to get this off my chest. "I raced up to her room, but she wasn't there. The police must have taken the… body. They had taken a lot of her stuff, too — it was like a crime scene. Tessa and I used to watch detective movies together, used to joke about how, if one of us knew we were going to die, we would hide a secret item in the faulty floorboard in her basement that would help us solve the mystery. I knew it was a long shot, but I decided to go down there.

"She had hidden her diary down there, with a note on top of it for me. _Read this Bella. It has everything you need to know,_ it had read. The key for my diary opened hers too — they were matching — so I had done what she told me to do and read through the pages the night of her funeral. I couldn't bring myself to do it before she'd been honoured properly, just in case I ended up knowing something dangerous.

"It was full of stories about how she'd been hurt, tormented by the same people who'd done it to me. That was when I realized that it was _all my fault_ ; that was what Jacob was talking about _._ He and Tess had been together, at least in the young kid way. They would go out for ice cream — what we called a 'date' — and he gave her flowers, candy… he even made her a dreamcatcher once, when she told him she'd been having nightmares. I didn't tell him the truth, that she'd… taken her own life, and I made everyone else promise to do the same. He never questioned me, because he _trusted_ me. He never should have; I didn't deserve his trust. Jacob even had to find out the truth by reading her diary when I was in the shower. He was right — it was _all my fault._ If I'd been okay with being alone, if I hadn't let her be my friend, they would have hurt me instead. Maybe I would be the one dead—"

"Bella," he cut me off, his voice full of pain. "I… I know y-you need to get this off your chest, but I don't think you know… how much it's hurting me."

My mouth flew open, and venom pooled in my eyes, make-shift tears. Now I was hurting _him,_ the most perfect creature. A tsunami of self-hatred washed over me, and my voice was small, insignificant like myself. "I'm sorry."

He took my chin again, forcing me to look into his eyes; they were swimming with adoration. _No, no, no, no, no…_ "Why can't you see yourself the way I see you?"

"You don't know me," I muttered under my breath. "You don't know what I've done." Shut up, Bella, just shut up…

"I don't care what you've done," he replied, entwining our hands, his other still caressing my jaw. I couldn't remember a time that we hadn't been touching, a time not filled with this intense electricity. "And after today, I think I know you pretty well."

"Better than anyone," I blurted out, slapping myself internally. But what terrified me the most, more than him finding out something he shouldn't, was that I was starting not to care what I said, or what I didn't say. Everything was okay when we were together, words unsaid understood. He smiled, cupping my cheek once more, stroking the side of my face with his thumb. His golden eyes were so beautiful, impossibly beautiful — he was impossible, his existence. How someone so perfect could exist was beyond me, beyond life, beyond the universe, beyond everything. His eyes, like orbs of topaz, drew closer, as did his ruby lips, his chiselled face, his hot breath against my cold skin…


	17. Fugitive

**My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter Seventeen: Fugitive**

"Wait," he whispered suddenly with a quivering lip.

My face crashed against his palm like the diamond waves of a storm against sheltered coasts, so cold it burned, so hard it hurt. Dread crept up my neck on its tip-toes and, as I wrenched my heavy eyes open, rested on my shoulder like the devil. Though he hadn't moved, he was far away suddenly, closed up like a tombstone before it's tossed into a grave, shallow compared to the depth of the earth.

"Why did you lie to me?"

Empty veins ran cold under my skin. "What?"

"Do you remember, when you were telling my family your story…" _Snap_. Jolting up from the rock, we came face to face with his family, a broken branch under Emmett's feet. Silently, I prayed; let them not have heard.

 _Why did you lie to me?_ To give him an answer, I needed one myself. Which lie had he caught me in? Whichever it was, I needed to cross it off the tally. One was a fresh memory, vivid, clear yet confusing — James and Aspyn. The trackers, part of my cover story, seemingly… acquaintances of Edward. There was a hole in the plan now, a danger that I needed to distance him from. Someday there would be a crossfire, and he wouldn't get caught.

Too bad the danger was me.

His brother's eyes darted to me, leering, an empath brimming with curiosity. I didn't need his power to guess how he felt; in his mind was a cork board, pegged with clues, and now all he needed was the red yarn to tie them together.

I was a deer in headlights, the fawn with her glowing eyes, the ones that you look into and see that maybe, just maybe, she isn't as innocent as she looks; maybe, just maybe, she deserves to be hit.

Jasper was the car, brandishing those headlights like a sword held up to my neck. My hands twitched, wanting miserably to tear away the blade.

"Where's Carlisle?" Edward asked, brushing the dust off his pants. It floated in the air for a moment, the dust, like glitter. "Is he still with the mutts?"

"Yes, Edward," Esme replied, leaning forward to fix his messy hair (which I secretly thought looked better that way) in her motherly manner; I half expected her to lick her thumb and rub his cheek with it. "He's still with the _wolves._ They are discussing the reinstatement of the treaty, civilly."

The dimple appeared in Emmett's cheeks again, the exact shape of Esme's thumb print (just saying). Hmm… "It was too bad, really." He turned to me. "Your mutt tried to pick a fight, but his daddy wouldn't let him."

"He's not _mine,_ " I mumbled, getting up begrudgingly. My Jacob had died with Tess, or maybe with my mother, or maybe even with me. "He was, once, but that part of my life is over." And it was true. Finally, I was telling the truth.

Emmett smirked. "So you wished him _fur_ well?"

"What?"

He frowned. " _Dog_ nabbit, this is harder than it looks. How do you do it, Bella?"

Was he… trying to make puns about Jacob being a wolf? Well, this had taken a turn. "Ah, I see. You wish to be my apprentice and learn the art of wittiosity."

His face looked like he'd just sucked hard on a lemon. "I think I'll take my business elsewhere."

"No!" I cried, grabbing his bicep with both my hands. They still didn't close around it. "You caught me on a bad day! I'm a little off my game, all things considered."

Emmett raised an eyebrow. "Bella, that is literally the understatement of the year. You just said _wittiosity_. I could get you arrested."

"On what grounds?" I fought back.

"Public disturbance."

I narrowed my eyes at him before scanning the clearing. "We're in the middle of nowhere. This barely counts as public. Besides, I'm delightful."

"Sure. You're just a ray of sunshine," he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Duh. Besides, who would you even call?"

"The cringe police, obviously."

"Well, Emmett, that would be a tragic mistake, as you just so happen to be on their most wanted list," I retorted, hands on my hips.

"Ooh, burn!" Alice's tinkling voice rose up, and Emmett made a big show of pretending he couldn't see her; honestly, I almost believed him, considering their respective sizes. She giggled and punched his stomach, to which he responded by keeling over in faux pain. He proceeded to chase her around the clearing, children playing together, laughter ringing out. My heart swelled watching them, their sibling banter true as if they were related by blood. And then I thought about our back-and-forth, mine and Emmett's, coming as easily to me as identifying stages of mitosis.

The muscles in my back all tensed up at once, a deer caught in headlights once again, which could only mean one thing… his scent bombarded me: honey, vanilla, and sandalwood. A powerful smell, laced with something like gunpowder, but with the gentleness of vanilla that matched his soft, pale hair. He reminded me of a common soldier, lean yet strong; only later would I discover that he was, in more ways than one, a man of the battlefields.

I didn't turn around when he spoke, thinking of his scarred neck. Everything he said, I stored it away. It felt like everything he said was important to remember, a piece to the puzzle. "I can feel your fear," Jasper said, voice low, and I kept my eyes on Alice dancing around the clearing — his kryptonite. He paused for a minute. There was not a clock in sight, but the cogs in my brain would suffice as tickers. "You don't have to be afraid." But I was… not just of him, but of everything. I was a fugitive. I had everything to lose, everything of which to be afraid. I scoffed quietly, under my breath, but if he heard it, he said nothing.

"I do have to be afraid," I said, and I said nothing more. He would just have to drown in his questions, die at the hands of the curiosity that he unintentionally cast onto me.

"I can feel it all," he said, prodding, omnipotent yet clueless. "The anger, the guilt, but most of all… the hunger." Then decorum bled into disdain, which bled into his voice. "You are a danger to the humans and will continue to be until you feed. It is your choice on what you feed, _on whom,_ but remember… you're in our territory." There it was, the menace, determined to protect. What an oxymoron, the definition of him and his family.

"I came to learn," I responded, feeling like I was once again in the throne room, thousands of humans dripping with blood, right under my nose; he wasn't wrong about my hunger. It was welling up in my throat, like I was being forced to swallow burning hot coals but they wouldn't go down. Pain seared through me, had been for days, like a fiery knot in my throat, like there was a rope tied around my neck, each minute being pulled a tighter until it was just about ready to hang me from the stars. I was a traveller, lost in the desert, searching for red water, all-consumed, yet somehow I pushed it all behind… how?

Another voice broke through the trees, saying, only loud enough for the two of us to hear, "We are here to teach you." Carlisle strode towards us, tall, his daffodil-coloured hair struck by the pale light of the moon. His head was cocked slightly towards Jasper, their eyes locked in silent conversation, before he looked towards me. He said, "When shall we begin our lessons?"

I whimpered, consciously rubbing my throat, curling my fingers to scratch against the scalding skin, "How about now?" He nodded, lips taut, eyes flitting to Jasper and back to me, forehead slightly indented. I followed his gaze to the sandalwood boy, whose face was hiding pain. Another puzzle, more pieces to find.

A drop of rain fell onto my head, and I turned my face up. Another few drops fell, and then a few more, until I could no longer count them one by one. "Rain," I whispered, turning my hand over so my palm was to the sky. "Is that good or bad?"

"Both," Carlisle said. "Rain takes the crunch out of the leaves. The deer are safe from hunters." He paused. " _Human_ hunters."

Hunters.

I stopped, stilling like a pendulum after decades of swing. Headlights stared me straight in the face, only this time it was worse; this time I was looking into a mirror.

I used to be the deer.

Hunting. Crouched so low that my knees were caked in dirt, peeking through a curtain of large, floppy leaves at the _prey_ , rain battering against my skull, sticking my hair to my neck and chest. Waiting for the deer to lay down, ready for a rest after a hard day, unsuspecting. Not knowing that it wouldn't wake up tomorrow until it was already gone.

My breathing came out laboured, ears ringing as Carlisle kept explaining the trick of the trade, his faraway voice like a coin in a spiral wishing well.

 _Mortal screams filled the room as the guard attacked, drinking each human dry in seconds. Felix held me back for what seemed like hours, until there was only one left: a young girl, thirteen or fourteen, tears streaming down her face as she stared at her parents, both dead on the floor. She looked up, her eyes pleading as they locked with my crimson ones._

The burning in my throat spread throughout the rest of my body, spread like wildfire, gathering in the back of my head, my stomach, burning.

 _A tall woman with mahogany hair, clad in a scandalous red dress had a death grip on her shoulders, and at Aro's beckon she pushed the girl towards me, giving me a smug look. From the swift motion, the girl's hair rose from her neck, giving me a full view._

Suddenly, I couldn't breath, and I gripped my throat tightly, gasping, making gross, strangled sounds, shuddering violently.

 _Everything after that was a blur, except the thoughts going through my head: flesh, blood, corpse. After that, I had no doubts. About three things I was absolutely positive. First, I was a vampire. Second, there was a part of me — and it scared me how potent that part may be — that thirsted for blood. And third, I was a murderer. A monster with no soul. He had given me that girl, and I had killed her, just like he wanted me to. Now he had complete control, and there was nothing I could do about it._

The same thoughts ran through my head, over and over, a record player as broken as myself.

 _I'm not here, this isn't happening again, it can't be, I'm a vampire now… I'm a vampire now… a vampire now…_

Edward appeared in front of me, crouching, his golden eyes shining with pain, the white moonlight striking him, making him an angel. Shaking, I was curled into a ball on the forest floor, head flat against the wet grass, rain battering against my face and body, each drop stinging like venom.

 _The girl in the reflection was deathly pale and sickly thin. Her hair was dull and a dark mahogany colour, and under her emotionless eyes resided deep, purple bags. Her lips were thin, chipped, and bare. Her baggy clothes hung loosely on her thin, bruised body, hiding the fact that her ribs were visible through her skin, but there was no masking how her cheekbones jutted out of her skinny face. She looked dead. She looked like… a vampire._

Bewildered and visibly terrified, Carlisle crouched beside me, dismay etched onto his pretty face, trench coat dripping wet and heavy against his back and shoulders. What was happening to me? It was clear that not even Carlisle knew, the doctor.

 _I closed my eyes. Vampire… that was what they called me. Because of my pale skin… and my dark hair… and the bags under my eyes… and my colourless lips… and the baggy white clothes I wore, not just because of the heat, but also to distract from my paleness and skinniness._

Jasper stood far back, eyes closed, shuddering. When she caught sight of him, Alice ran to Jasper, hugging him around his stomach with both arms, cries ringing out through the forest. She watched me with panic.

 _Vampire: a corpse that leaves its grave at night to feast on the blood of the living. That's what they thought I was. They thought I killed Jacob._

Esme hovered over me, just close enough that I could see her. Her eyes were wet with condemned tears, hands covering her mouth, covering her sobs. She looked from me to her husband, whose hands held up my head, sheltered me from the dirty soil.

 _Everything after that was a blur, except the thoughts going through my head: flesh, blood, corpse. After that, I had no doubts. About three things I was absolutely positive. First, I was a vampire. Second, there was a part of me — and it scared me how potent that part may be — that thirsted for blood. And third, I was a murderer. A monster with no soul. He had given me that girl, and I had killed her, just like he wanted me to. Now he had complete control, and there was nothing I could do about it._

Looking up at Edward, the angel, I begged him with my eyes. He nodded, understanding that I wanted him to hold me, and wrapped his arms around me as I shook. He cried, but he tried to hide it.

 _No matter what I did, I would always be a vampire._

* * *

Legs curled under me, I sat on his black leather sofa, elbow propped up on the arm, cheek in my palm, gazing dejectedly into the dark woods through the glass that made up the far wall of the room. The western wall was lined with CDs held up by wooden shelves, vinyls beside them, and a record player, vintage like him, rested on a small square table, playing an unfamiliar soft jazz number. It was just how I imagined his bedroom to look.

The door cracked open, and Edward stepped inside. "Hey," he hummed, coming to sit beside me. I was silent, but my eyes flickered like the soft yellow light in the corner, low and hot.

He smiled weakly and rested a hand on my shoulder, saying, "Hey, Bella," with the most empathy I'd ever heard. The knot in my throat tightened, and I fought back tears. His eyes welled up instead, shimmering like liquid gold in the purest of sunlight. My lips parted in shock, and I shifted and rested my palm against his cheek.

"Hey," I whispered softly, holding his face in my hand, thumb resting in the crook of his chin. He looked at me, so vulnerable, eyes as yellow as a cat's. Why was he crying? It must have been my fault. I messed everything up.

"I'm sorry. I came to comfort you, but…" He trailed off.

"Hey," I said again as he leaned into my touch. "It's my turn. You've done it enough."

He smiled, and I felt it in my palm. "Never." We waited, for what I don't know, but we did. When the room stilled, voices rose from downstairs, quiet, and we listened, not quite able to make out what they were saying. He broke the silence.

"Carlisle said it was a panic attack. He'd never seen anything like it before, not in a vampire."

Jaws clenched, I let out a puff of air and turned to face the CD shelf. "Just another way I'm a freak."

"Hey," he said jokingly. I couldn't help but smile a little — maybe _hey_ was our new always — but he turned serious. "You are _not_ a freak, Bella."

"Then what am I?"

He smiled. "An enigma."

I gnawed on my lip, remembering how he'd called me that the day we'd met, less than a week ago but already an eternity. He'd found the word that described me perfectly: enigma. Mysterious, puzzling, or difficult to understand. "Yeah, that fits the bill. But you're not black and white either, Edward."

"No one is, Bella. That's just what makes us up, the grey areas in between." He paused. "In the woods, I asked you something."

"I remember." I closed my eyes, sighing. "Listen-"

"No," he said. Startled, I stopped, the words stuck on my lips; still, I didn't know what I would have said. The truth was out of question, that was for sure.

"What?" I managed to say as he took my hand in both of his. It was warm somehow, comforting — despite how often we touched, simple touches never lost their lustre.

Catching my gaze, he placed our hands in his lap. "No. I don't want to know why you…" He trailed off, probably thinking of his hot-tempered brother who might be able to hear us. Quieter, he continued. "I don't need to know why you lied, because I know you had a reason. Like I said, the grey areas are what make you yourself, and I…" He flashed me a crooked grin. "I am rather fond of you."

Curling my top lip over the bottom, I looked away, blinking. I smiled, exasperated at his charm, and replied, "I'm rather fond of you, too." He smiled at me mockingly and jiggled his eyebrows, to which I responded by whacking his arm with a throw pillow. He rolled his eyes and wrapped his arm around me, settling us comfortably onto the sofa so my head was against his chest and my legs were stretched out sideways.

We stayed like that for a moment, a good moment. Rain pattered against the side of the house, louder against the glass, and I closed my eyes, just listening, drinking it up, trying not to think about the fact that we still had to talk about what happened earlier. However, I couldn't escape it for long.

A knock on the door came from outside, and Edward sighed, ruffling his hair (finally, I'd been wanting to do that for hours). "Come in, Alice," he called, and a second later, Alice's spiky hair came into view.

"Hi," she said timidly, as if I was going to run off. Where was the Alice Energy that I'd grown accustomed to? "Carlisle wants you guys to come downstairs." Edward nodded begrudgingly and stood up, offering me his hand. I took it and stood up, heading for the door, when I noticed that they weren't following.

"Edward?" I said. He seemed to be in silent conversation with Alice, but he looked up from it and smiled — it seemed a little fake. He took my hand and let me lead him downstairs, Alice close behind. I watched his face, worried, but when he looked down at me, the smile was genuine. I returned it.

Carlisle stood up when he saw us, his manners, centuries old, shining through. I had yet to learn his story; in fact, the only one I knew was Edward's. I made a mental note to ask them, sitting down on one of the cream-coloured sofas that Esme loved, glad the clothes I was wearing were clean; since mine were muddied from hugging the earth like it was my mother, I had borrowed one of Emmett's shirts, one that fit me like a giant, oversized dress (of course, Alice had offered too — Emmett was the lesser of two evils). Edward came and sat beside me, not touching.

I just wanted to know what had happened earlier in the woods, both between Edward and I and with the 'panic attack'. Being a vampire was supposed to be easy. I was supposed to know everything. The truth is, no one knows everything, and nothing worth having is easy. But was being a vampire worth the pain, the confusion, the suffering of others? I couldn't come up with any reason for it to be. However, I was starting to realize that I didn't have a choice.

 _No matter what I did, I would always be a vampire._

I felt panic well up inside me again, but I swallowed it back down. It was easier somehow, like it was being pulled away. Composed in my face, I crossed my legs and waited patiently, hands folded and resting on my knees, eyes shut tightly but only for a moment. Breathing.

"Hey," Edward whispered, hand inching along the sofa, closer to my leg but not touching. "It's going to be okay." He didn't ask me if I was okay, because he knew I wasn't; instead he told me things that he knew would make me feel better. I nodded, believing him. After all, he would never lie to me — to never lie was his promise.

Too bad I couldn't make the same one.

When the silence became too much, Carlisle began, directing his words at me. "I assume you understand why we are here."

"I do."

"And I assume Edward has told you…"

"Yes," I said. "He told me it was a panic attack. But I'm a vampire! How is that even possible?" Clearly, I was getting worked up, frustrated, when suddenly my breathing slowed. I suspected the empath.

"I've never seen it happen in my years as a vampire," Carlisle responded, hands folded on his knees. "Although, in theory, it is not impossible."

"In theory?"

"Anxiety attacks are rooted in a person's brain, the organ that is responsible for emotions. And, while the rest of our bodily functions aren't quite functioning, our brains work 'better' than those of humans. Everything is heightened for vampires." I flinched at his casual use of the word out loud. "So, in retrospect, having a panic attack makes perfect sense, especially if you were prone to them as a human. They wouldn't be exactly the same — no heart palpitations or perspiration — but there would be similar symptoms, such as hyperventilation, the feeling of choking, fear, numbness or tingling, perhaps even burning sensations."

I nodded, gaze locked on my bare feet and my wiggling toes. "That's what happened. All of it. Especially the burning." Wrapping my arms tightly around myself, I tried not to think about it, not to fall back into the picture-perfect memory.

"Bella," said Edward, gently prying my arms away from me. I thanked him with my eyes. "Has this happened before?"

"Sometimes, on a smaller scale, when I was… human. But not like this," I replied as he rubbed up and down my arms comfortingly. "Never like this." There was only one question left, the one I didn't want to answer.

His gaze met mine, eyes saying sorry, like he knew what I was thinking but couldn't do anything about it. "Bella-"

"I know _why_ ," I interrupted. I knew what he was going to ask — why I was so afraid. "I don't want to kill."

"Haven't you… you know…"

I sighed. "Twice. I've killed two people." _And it haunts me every second of every day._ I didn't have to say it; they knew already. They felt it, too.

"Two isn't so bad," Esme interjected. I looked at her and could hardly imagine a bloodthirsty killer, but I knew it was there. Between the love and compassion, somewhere deep inside, I sensed darkness in her, pain. I wondered what her number was.

"Sure, two isn't bad," I said, "for drunk weddings in Vegas. But this is people's lives I've taken away. I can't… I can't willingly do it again, not even to a deer." _Because I am that deer. Or I was._

Too bad for me, there were only two options: humans or animals. Death was the hidden third, but I had a feeling that was out of the question now — well, at least on purpose. Accidental death, however, was very plausible.

After all, I was a fugitive.


	18. One Two Three

**My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter Eighteen: One Two Three**

The number of stars in the sky is incalculable. The number of fingers on my hand is not. Stars are infinite; I have five fingers on one hand.

Some people have incalculable numbers that hover over their heads, that weigh their hearts down like an anchor; _that_ is the number of lives they've taken away. I am not one of those people. My number is two.

I can count the deaths on one bloodied hand.

Metaphorically, of course.

The buzz of students rang in my ears like a hive of bees, and I turned my palm up, staring at the mysterious lines. They ran like a river under my skin — stagnant. Suddenly, I fought the urge to shiver, clenching my fists tightly and pressing them against the white table.

"Bella," said a nearby voice, singled out amongst the cluster. Her voice was sweet and heavy, fresh honey dripping from the air. Angela was wearing white today, the angel's colour. Sick with envy, I tugged at my black sleeves. "Hello, earth to Bella." She waved her hand in front of my face, wrist inches from my teeth. The fire spit. My throat burned. A shooting pain ran through my leg and, when I looked down, I saw small, crescent-shaped tears in the fabric and the same shape embedded into my leg in a flesh-coloured gash. I ran my nails over the dents in my skin, fitting the weapon to the wound.

"Hmm?" I answered without looking up, without parting my lips, without exposing my dripping teeth to the freezing air — you know, like drinking ice water after brushing your teeth, only lethal. The taste of venom filled my mouth, a toxic chemical, a weapon. It was bitter, acidic; my tongue swam in it like a fish in water.

"Bella?" This time, she sounded worried, but her voice was faraway... yet still it sounded like she was shouting in my ear.

"Angela," the name slipped between the knives in my mouth and past their gatekeepers. Saying her name would make me remember, I hoped, that she was my friend, that she was alive, that she was a person. Somehow, the girl inside of me just wanted to kill her more. That part of me was sadistic.

The other part of me, the bigger part, was a masochist.

I shot up, the chair behind me spiralling to the cold floor, clanging against it like pots and pans. Frantic, my gaze fell on a tray in front of me.

The cafeteria tray, cold and grey, untouched, was the home to an apple that had not even one bite mark, as my teeth were not partial to squandering their talents. The apple shone like glass, reflected light like a thousand crystals, and in it, I saw my murderous look — it was shrouded in dark red, the apple's skin, the colour of the evil Queen's poison-fruit, the colour of my friend's blood. I muttered something about a toilet under my breath. They didn't question me.

In a frenzy of bloodlust, I searched the room for a pair of eyes, golden, that looked through me, through the murder girl who had taken over and into the girl, just the girl, the one whose life had changed in one dizzying moment few weeks ago. For better or worse, she couldn't tell him, but somehow she had only one regret: refusing his father's help. I couldn't stand it anymore; in a moment, I wouldn't have been able to count the deaths on one hand, or both, or even with all ten toes.

As soon as my eyes met his, and I saw the fright, the panic, the distrust inside of them, I took a step back. My feet moved on their own accord, backwards slowly towards the door, knocking the trash can by the exit (it swayed, but it didn't fall over), still with my eyes trained on him. Any second, I would bolt.

Edward shot up from his seat, chest puffed with a gasp of air. He would come to me, save me; I knew it. My eyes swam with relief, and my shoulders sagged.

Alice caught his arm in both of hers. They locked gazes in silent conversation, a fiery battle in their minds, before he dropped back into his seat, lip shaking with anxiety, like he was about to cry.

My heart dropped. He wasn't coming. He knew what would happen, and he still wasn't coming.

I crashed through the doors of the cafeteria, the same blue double doors that I first walked through with Jessica by my side. The hallway walls were blurry now, and images flashed through my head: last night when I panicked, three weeks ago when I turned, months ago when I was in the hospital, three years ago... like a backwards flash before my eyes. I imagined this was what it felt like to snap, to go crazy. It was too much, all of it, and too soon; I _was_ crazy, crazy to think that I could survive here and let others survive with me.

The words around me echoed across the blurry walls as I stopped in front of an open door. I was an alcoholic, and I smelled a century wine. I was weak. I chose him.

"I'd like to transfer into a different biology class," said the chosen one, a boy, to the lady behind the counter. I didn't know his name; I didn't care. "It needs to be period six with Mr. Banner." His blood swirled inside of him like a stomach, unsettled. Maybe if I'd listened...

Lady's eyebrows furrowed. "May I ask why?" She smelled strongly of nicotine, like the smell had become part of the aura she emitted. I imagined her blood tasted of smoke, but I would take what I could get. She was the convenience store beer.

He leaned across the table, eyes narrowed in a smirking way. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Excuse me," she sounded offended.

He sighed. "Listen, _ma'am_..." His eyes caught mine just as the fan stopped on him. He froze and stared, and then something clicked inside of his head. He turned back to the woman and whispered something to her. Then, he swallowed hard, thanked her loudly for her help, and walked out the back door into a back alleyway. His arms shook, and his feet staggered, but he kept on. His heartbeat was like a hummingbird's.

Maybe I would have noticed. Maybe I should have.

The outside walls of the building were brick, red like a freshly picked apple. The clouds covered the sun like every other day in the small town of Forks, casting a grey shadow across the pavement. No one ever walked here. No one knew why they didn't; it was just somewhere they didn't go.

Everywhere needs a place for darkness to brew, to plot its evil plans and slink around in the shadows of light. After all, darkness is a person, too.

Darkness followed him to the dead end and waited for him to turn around; I knew he would. When he finally did, his face was white as a ghost, white as a vampire, white as... an angel. My resolve didn't shake, didn't tremble, didn't even quiver. I stalked towards my prey.

I wanted Edward or Alice to show up and stop me. I needed them to drag me away, convince the boy that nothing was strange, and have Jasper take away his curiosity. I expected them to save the boy... to save me.

Still, I was not shocked when my teeth sank into his neck.

It was at this exact moment that I realized: I was useless. I could do nothing by myself. I was too dependant. I needed Tess, Jacob, my mother, Phil, Carlisle... Edward.

I needed them to save me, and they weren't there, and I did something horrible.

His bloodcurdling scream echoed through the alley, and his blood spurted out from the open wound, drenching red brick with darker red. Fresh blood is dark; dried, it only gets darker. It filled my mouth, covered my hands and my shirt and my pants with five holes in them. He dropped dead, drained, onto the dirty, dusty ground.

It was over.

I stopped when the last drop came off my lip and floated on my pinkish tongue. My hands were bloodied again, for the third time.

Three.

I stared blankly into the red-stained red wall, held my head in my bloody hands, and slid down it.

* * *

Ten minutes. I sat there for ten minutes before they found me. I know that because I was counting the seconds. One, two, three...

Alice was crouched beside me, wiping the blood off my hands with a moist towelette, not a speck of hatred or disappointment in her eyes. I needed to know if Edward felt the same, so I ignored my vow not to look into his eyes until mine were the same colour and cursed him with my crimson red. Still, in my haste to catch his eyes, I didn't notice something else in Alice's, something I wish I'd seen before I let her take care of me.

I knew the look Edward had on better than I knew happiness: dread, heavy as a velvet curtain that drags along a carpeted floor. Sorrow was etched into his features; he knew.

I didn't want him to know.

Hand resting on my shoulder, voice doused in compassion like maple syrup on french toast, Alice said my name, quiet, and suddenly her little porcelain hand felt like a million bricks against my back. I shrugged her off and drew my knees into my chest. I wouldn't look at her again, not when I knew that she was hurt by that. If I'd known that look in her eyes, I wouldn't have cared that she was hurt. I was hurt.

I heard her get up only from the swoosh of air; her knees never cracked. "I'll go get a mop," she whispered, voice doing what her knees did not. Guilt exploded inside of me, but I said nothing. I should not have felt guilty then, not for Alice.

Edward sat down beside me and hugged his knees. I wouldn't look at him.

"It's your eyes, right? They are why you won't look at me," he said, so quietly I almost missed it. My head lifted, and I looked at him.

I swallowed hard, meeting his eyes. "Yes." The first word, after... My voice was small, breaking in the middle of the short word. Shame spread through me like a fire, warm yet havoc-wreaking, but I could be more like water — shallow.

He said, "They're beautiful."

I said, "They're red."

He smiled. "Yes." We sat in silence, staring at each other, gold and red. For once, his words didn't make everything better. Nothing would.

My lip quivered, and I sucked it between my teeth. Suddenly I tasted blood. Tears filled my eyes, and my gaze fell to his lap.

"Help me," I pleaded quietly, scraping my knuckles on the gravel. Back and forth, back and forth... I'd be bleeding by now. I should be bleeding.

He took me into his arms. I began to protest — my clothes were covered in blood — but he pressed a finger to my lip. "I will do everything," he said, "to help you."

"Teach me."

He paused for a minute before nodding. "You won't..."

I sighed. "I might panic again."

"But this is too important to not take the risk."

I nodded, then, suddenly inquisitive, I asked, "Are you sure you can't read my mind?"

He smiled and took one of my hands, my five fingers enclosed in ten of his. "Absolutely positive."

"And that doesn't bug you?"

"Oh, it does." He squeezed my fingers. "The only mind I want to see into is blank to me."

"That's how all of us feel all the time."

He threw his head back, and the most beautiful sound, his musical laugh, filled the air. It felt wrong to laugh when we were covered in blood, like a sin. I paused; I'd just killed someone, and _laughing_ felt like a sin. "It's different when you have something, and then it gets taken away."

I froze. The laughter stopped when he saw my face and was replaced with horror. "I'm so sorry..."

I smiled weakly. "I can't seem to find perspective, lately. You make me feel better, and I clearly don't deserve that."

A deep crease appeared in his forehead, deep like a chasm. His red lips turned down, and he took my other hand. "You deserve the world."

"I'm a killer."

"So am I," he retorted.

"That's different."

"How?"

I hesitated. Did he have a point? Could anyone be forgiven? "You aren't sitting in a pool of your victim's blood."

"Okay then," he said, standing up. He offered me his hand, and I took it, letting him pull me up. "Let's go do something about it." I shut my eyes tight, not wanting to see it.

He saw me. "Bella," he said, "if you can't face it head on, then you'll never see past it."

He was right. With difficulty, like I hadn't slept in days, I pried my eyes open. The nameless boy laid on the cold cement, dead and drowning in his blood-river, blue eyes open and wide. They shone like glass and had an emptiness to them where life used to be. This time, I could not hide my shiver.

There was a crescent shaped gash in his throat, open and bursting with redness. It was specked with dried up blood, darker than the rest, and dripped down his neck onto his blue collar. Red and blue. Fire and ice.

I heaved, venom bubbling from my mouth like vomit. My ears rang, a thousand church bells, funeral bells. Loudly and sloppily, I cried. Sobs escaped from between my lips, dry as sandpaper, scraping my throat on the way out. It no longer burned; the blood was a balm. The fact that his death made my life easier just made it worse, harder to push back the guilt caused by my selfishness.

My sobbing was the only sound now; of the three people in the alleyway, none had a heartbeat. The sound was wretched, pained, but real. Yet still, I had no right to cry.

I dropped to my knees, staining my ruined pants with crimson blood. His eyes, wide and blue, the ocean wrapped up in two little orbs, looked back up at me, hollow, far gone. With my trembling fingers, I pushed his eyelids down over them, careful for some reason like he could still feel the pressure, sobbing wildly. Somehow, this was the worst of the three kills. This was too close to home.

This was too close to Forks.

Beside the lifeless boy, I collapsed.

* * *

Slouched against the leather seats of Edward's car, knocking my head against the window glass every now and then, pretending my shaking was from the bumpy road, I could still feel the weight of his fingers, long like a piano player's, as they curled around my stomach and the back of my knees, lifting me up, carrying me. My head pressed against his silent chest as he held me to him, bloody hair sticking to my neck, mahogany stained with darker red. Dried up, blood is almost black. Now I tugged lazily at my shirt sleeves, bounding down the winding road. A patch of fabric came off in my hand.

My pale skin was paler than ever, haunted by the memory of two men, red and white tie dyed shirts bulging with muscle, bursting through the alleyway door and lifting the boy from head and legs; one of his brothers could have done it alone, easily. I'll never understand why they needed two.

I don't know what Jasper and Emmett did with the... body. I don't know what was going through their heads as they dragged him into the forest. I don't know what their eyes looked like, because they didn't look at me. They wouldn't. At least, out of all the things I didn't know, I knew why they wouldn't do that.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward glance at me. He turned back to the road when I looked at him. He said, watching the blurry trees, "Alice will be waiting for us at my house with fresh clothes."

I said, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything," I replied, playing with the rips in my jeans. They frayed, little white strands unravelling into my hand. "And for getting your car dirty."

He bit his lip, but I saw the corners of his mouth turn up. "I don't know if I can forgive you for the car."

It was silent after that for a while, awkward this time. "You know I was joking about the car—"

"Why didn't Jasper kill me?"

His breaths came out shaky. "What?"

"You know what I said."

A minute passed. His fingers gripped the steering wheel like they were a life boat and he was drifting out to sea. "I want to tell you that he wouldn't do that."

"You want to, but you promised never to lie to me," I said, tracing the dashboard lines.

He answered, watching the forest disappear behind us, "You know, you haven't stayed at school for a whole day yet. Your father won't appreciate it."

"Answer the question, Edward. Why didn't your brother kill me?" His voice still haunted my crystal clear, picture perfect memories, low and menacing; gone was the lean boy, and present was the soldier.

 _It is your choice on what you feed, on whom, but remember… you're in our territory._

I continued, "And don't you tell me he's not capable of it…" The scar on my shoulder stung, bringing terror back to the surface.

 _Against my better judgement, I ran to Jasper and placed my hand on his arm, trying to convince him that I was not a threat. Alice's eyes glazed over for a second and then widened, and she moved to grab Jasper's shoulder — only, she was too late. Suddenly, he was over me, teeth bared, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from the scars along his jaw and neck._

"Because he sure as hell is."

He interrupted, "He's got scars, Bella." _His teeth sank into my shoulder, and an excruciating pain tore through my body._ "We all do."

"I only have one," I whispered, swallowing back the knot in my throat. The old fire had been extinguished, but a new one was burning, a match in a universe of darkness; I knew better than to think it would stay that way. "There's only one scar on my body, but three inflicted by my teeth."

The road faded into sand and dirt — the house was close. I never wanted to arrive, not if it meant more than one scar. He said, "There is a reason."

"Please."

"He didn't kill you," he said, "because he can't."

"Edward—"

"Just listen." Gnawing on my lip, I quieted to let him speak. "No matter how much he wants to, Jasper can't kill you. Carlisle forbade it."

"Why? All I do is cause problems."

"Carlisle thinks you can be saved. _I_ think you can be saved." He smiled, small, weak. "Besides, Alice loves you. She'd kill him back."

"An eye for an eye."

He smirked. "Sort of."

"An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind," I whispered quietly, looking at my shoes. They were red.

There was a pause where I could feel his eyes on me, those golden eyes like x-rays. "Mahatma Gandhi," he replied. I nodded and looked up at him, shyly, through my lashes and wished I knew what he was thinking.

I carried on, letting him know what was on _my_ mind. If he couldn't hear himself, I would tell him. Maybe he would do the same, someday. "I, for one, would rather be unavenged than carry that weight upon my cold, dead shoulders, than for people wake up one day to everybody's eyes covered by tinted sunglasses, to be startled out of sleep by the barks of clashing guide dogs."

"Also Gandhi?"

I smiled. "No, that was me." And it was me. Pure, unedited, me.

The car came to a stop, graceful despite the horrific speed — perhaps manic driving was a vampire trait that only I lacked. He stared at me as he put the car into park and killed the engine. "Let's go in. Alice will have clothes for you."

And we did, and she did. Jasper and Emmett were not at home. Carlisle was, as was Esme. Rosalie stood quietly by the door; she might as well have not been there. Alice lead me upstairs as Edward pulled Carlisle aside.

"They are old clothes," she began, sparkle lost from her eyes, bounce missing from her step. "I wouldn't have turned down the opportunity to play dress up, but I figured you weren't up to it. Besides, these clothes will get muddy when we go hunting anyways."

"We're going hunting?" I asked, stopping in the middle of the hallway. Her brows furrowed.

"Isn't that what you want?"

I took a deep breath, nodding. "Yeah, yeah it is. I can't do _this_ anymore."

She grasped my arms. "You are ready, Bella. You'll make it through this." Smiling and rubbing my arms comfortingly, she took my hand and lead me through the hallway and into a large room. The walls were pink like Valentine's Day, and the furniture was all cream-coloured. In the middle of the room was a king-sized bed; I didn't want to think about what they needed that for.

"Mine and Jasper's room." Cleary hers, but Jasper's? Not so much.

"Wow, your boyfriend must love you if he's okay with all this pink," I commented as she handed me the worn t-shirt and pants.

"Husband," she corrected. I don't know why I was shocked; I mean, they were mates, and they had probably been together for longer than most human couples. Still, they both looked so young.

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. I am seventeen, after all." She smiled cheekily. "I'll let you get dressed. Oh, I almost forgot — there's a shower through here. You might want to use it." She pointed at a door on the far side of the room, the ensuite.

"Ok." Alice closed the door behind her with a quiet thud, and I took her advice, making my way into the bathroom. The first thing I was was my reflection in the mirror. My hair was matted and stiff with dried up blood, the same dark red, almost black, that dyed my clothes.

 _His bloodcurdling scream echoed through the alley, and his blood spurted out from the open wound, drenching red brick with darker red._

A scream caught in my throat, and I wiped my tongue on the back of my hands, frantic, then clawed at my blood-battered sleeves. Quickly, after making sure the door was locked, I pulled off the blood-smeared shirt and darkened jeans, rolled them into a ball, and shoved them into a trash can. Then I reached into my bag, pulled out a bunch of unnecessary papers, and packed them on top, pushing them in around the edges.

Standing in my underwear, I looked into the mirror again. A memory prodded through of the first time I'd seen my new reflection, the day after my change. I'd marvelled at my curves, my mahogany hair, my alabaster skin, at my ruby lips, my thick eyelashes, and my long neck, but when I looked up, when I looked into my eyes…

The day you lose yourself is the day you look yourself in the eyes and don't recognize the person looking back at you. And even now, I remember what I said to myself, to her, the girl with the crimson eyes — I don't doubt for a second that I'll remember it years from now, decades, centuries if I can hide for that long.

"You are dead to me now," I said to my reflection in the mirror.


	19. Memories from the Future

**My Pale Skin**

 **Chapter Nineteen: Memories from the Future**

I sank my teeth into the third deer's neck, nearly choking on the warm liquid that filled my mouth. When I finished, it only took me five minutes to carve a hole big enough to fit the carcass, and I tucked the deer into the hole.

"Is she going to do that every time?" Rosalie sneered from the trees as I shovelled dirt over the body with my hands. Alice hissed at her to shut up, and she huffed loudly.

"I think it's wonderful," Esme voiced. "She's so compassionate."

Carlisle smiled, wrapping his arms around her. "She always reminded me of you."

"She's showing so much self-control," Jasper muttered.

"She did just snack on a boy two weeks ago. He was big, too. Juicy."

"Rosalie!" Alice scolded. "That's so insensitive."

"I'm just saying! Why couldn't she just suck on a blood bag or two?"

"You remember what Carlisle said — quitting gets harder every time you taste human blood. It's like cigarettes, or something."

Jasper mused to himself, "Maybe that's why it's so hard for me," clearly not intending for anyone to hear him. Alice placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and he looked up, startled.

I stayed for a moment, crouched on the ground, balancing on the balls of my feet, and wiggled my toes, feeling the damp dirt squeeze between them. Mud. It wasn't raining now, but it had recently — last night, or early this morning. I wasn't thirsty anymore; I hadn't been too thirsty in the first place, as human blood sustains them — us — for longer, but Carlisle had insisted that sooner was better.

Falling backwards onto my butt, I drew my legs into my chest and hugged them tightly. Edward came to sit beside me — I could tell it was him from his smell, from his warmth, comfort — and slung an arm lazily around my shoulders.

"You did good, Bella."

I nodded. "Thanks to you and Carlisle."

"Not just us… I've never seen someone with so much self-control while hunting."

I shrugged. "I don't want to kill."

"None of us do."

We gave way to a moment of silence, maybe for the animals we killed, maybe for ourselves. The latter was selfish, but it was closer to the truth. As is with most things. The only notices that the rest of the Cullens going off on their own to hunt were the sound of air whooshing by us and the sudden absence of honey-scent, save for Edward's. The privacy was comfortable.

"How's Charlie?" Edward asked as I stretched out my legs.

"Still angry with me for skipping school. And… worried about something. Work or me, I can't figure out what."

He gave me a toothy grin and tapped his head. "Want me to find out?"

I snorted. "Yeah, I'll introduce the two of you. I've been meaning to ask, are we bulletproof?"

"I've never tested the theory, but yes."

I giggled. "Well, at least you're safe from my father's gun, then."

He raised his eyebrows, amused. "And why would your father try to shoot me? Key word being try, of course."

I laughed eve louder. "Because you're my…" I trailed off, unsure of how to continue. What was Edward? My friend, no. My boyfriend, definitely not. Maybe somewhere in between. "Um, you know, he makes it a habit of shooting every guy I bring home."

"You bring many guys home?" he teased.

I sputtered, "What? Oh, no. You would be the first." Internally, I slapped myself. Several times. Over and over again. "I mean…"

Allowing me to trail off, he looked away, but I could have sworn I saw a pleased smile on his lips. "It's still early," he pointed out, glancing at the sky. "Charlie is working today?" It was an odd day, sunny. The clouds covered the sun in the woods, but thank goodness we didn't have school today. My father wouldn't take well to my feigning sick. Although, I could probably have pulled off looking pale…

"Yes. He works most Saturdays."

He stood up. "Then shall we take a trip?"

My breathing quickened at the prospect. "Where to?"

He grinned lopsidedly, displaying the dimple in his left cheek, and held out his hand to me. "Follow me, Bella Swan."

* * *

"It's even more beautiful in the sun," I told him, eyes scanning the scene. White freesias sprouted from the earth, fragrant and shimmering as the morning's downpour had coated them in rainwater that reflected the yellow sunlight. Small red mushrooms popped up, bright and cheery — possibly poisonous, but gorgeous nonetheless, just like my kind. I dragged Edward to the center of the meadow where we met, yet to take my eyes off its beauty; when I did, my eyes fell upon Edward, and suddenly the meadow paled in comparison.

Shirt discarded after hunting, the bare skin on his chest glimmered like there were diamonds embedded inside, the intricate stylings of the finest craftsman alive. My gaze rose to his face, the cut angles seeming sharper somehow, his hair redder than the mushrooms, eyes more golden than a king's crown. They stared back at me, mirroring my own enthralled expression. Why? I broke away and glanced at my hands — they, too, sparkled with fervour.

I flexed my fingers. "I'll never get tired of that," I murmured, raising my eyes to his, grinning lazily. His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me towards him, and I trailed my fingers along the thin wisps of hair on his chest, giggling when he shivered.

Narrowing his eyes mischievously, he disappeared for a moment before reappearing behind me, tackling me to the grass. A squeal broke from my lips, followed by a hefty laugh that mingled with his in the glittery air. He landed on top of me, hovering slightly, face inches from mine. Leaning down…

I placed my hand on his chest, pushing him back softly, resolve draining from me with every inch closer he moved, and shook my head gently. "Not yet," I whispered, tangling my fingers into his hair and marvelling at its softness. "Not until my eyes turn gold."

Grinning, he nodded and pressed his forehead against mine, staring down into my crimson eyes. "God, you're beautiful," he muttered before pulling away and rolling onto his back. I froze, breath caught in my lungs, and squeezed my eyes shut, letting his words run through my head over and over, painfully aware of his warm presence laying beside me.

Taking a deep breath, I shifted closer slowly, as if waiting for him to stop me — he didn't — until my head rested on his arm, hands on his chest. Edward traced circles on my hip, right where my shirt had risen up, and I sighed into his shoulder happily. "You make me feel alive," I whispered, so quietly that he might not even have heard it. If he did, he said nothing.

After a moment, he asked randomly, "What's your favourite book?"

"Wuthering Heights," I responded immediately.

He grinned. "Brontë… I only wished she'd written more novels."

"Oh, I'm sure she would have if you asked nicely. You know, flashed her that dimple and done that thing you do with your eyes."

"Okay, first of all, I _am not_ that old," he replied, laughing, "and second, what thing with my eyes?"

"That smouldering thing," I said, attempting to recreate it. He burst into a fit of laughter that could probably be heard in town. "Whatever. You know what I mean. And I'm sure it was just as dazzling when you had green eyes."

He froze. "How did you know that my eyes were green?"

I paused for a moment — how had I known? I'd said it without thinking, like instinct. But, this close to him, I realized almost unconsciously as I brushed his hair out of his face that there were flecks of emerald in his golden eyes, like they were from a past life.

"I can see them," I told him. "Little bits of green in your eyes."

"Little bits of humanity," he mused, bringing his own hand up to rest against mine.

"They aren't in mine," I said. "There's no brown."

"Maybe there will be. Once they turn golden."

"I hope so." After that, we lay there in silence. I messed around with my mental shield, making sure that my grasp on Giovanni's mind was still strong, and flexed the ice blue cover as though it were just another muscle. I still couldn't remove it from myself, but when I tried to reach out to Edward's, the shield curled around his mind effortlessly. Protection… I could protect him. I smiled to myself and drew it back.

"What're you smiling about, goof?" he whispered in my ear, and I had to bite back a laugh.

"Nothing," I replied cheekily as his fingers knotted into my hair, gently scraping my scalp. Then, after a moment, I changed my mind… "Everything."

* * *

Reclined in the front seat of my truck, I had become so engrossed in a novel that the light tapping on my window made me jump. Cursing softly, I unrolled the window. "Geez, Emmett. You nearly gave me a heart attack."

He rolled his eyes. "That's impossible. Your heart isn't even beating. Besides, I thought it would be harder to startle a vampire." My eyes widened at his casual use of the word and scanned the parking lot for any listening ears, making him laugh. "Bella, no one is here. Besides, human ears are puny."

"Hey!"

"What?" It took me a moment to realize that I shouldn't have been offended by that — I wasn't human anymore, hadn't been for a while.

"Nothing, just… where's Edward?"

He smirked and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. Sure enough, Edward was behind him, leaning against the hood of his silver Volvo, grinning cheekily at me and waving his fingers.

"Lover boy's waiting over there," Emmett whispered, and I scowled and shoved him lightly — apparently I'd forgotten about my newborn strength, because that 'light' shove sent him barreling into Jasper, who caught him around the waist.

I bit back my giggles at their sour faces, although Jasper's still sent chills down my spine. "Seems I'm stronger," I teased Emmett, emerging from my car. "When are we doing that arm wrestling match?"

"Two years from now," he muttered, rubbing his shoulder. "Geez, Belly Boo."

"Don't call me that," I sneered, swallowing down laughter at the sheer terrified look on his face, and brushed past them, making my way towards the bronze-haired boy in front of me.

"I saw that," he said as I came up beside him. "Thanks for putting him in his place."

"Like you couldn't have," I snorted, placing my palm on the hood of the Volvo. "Nice car."

"Sheila's my baby," he replied seriously. I stared at him for a moment before he cracked and collapsed in laughter. "I'm just kidding, Bella. I didn't name my car Sheila."

"Good. I was starting to think you were weird."

"Of course not." He leaned back. "I named her Gertrude."

"Edward!" I laughed, shoving his shoulder playfully — and thankfully not sending him flying. Good thing, too, because people were beginning to file into the lot.

"Bella!" Jessica called out, waving at me as she stepped out of her rosy pink truck and made her way over. "Edward! Um, Bells, we should get to class."

"We have thirty min—"

"Haha, you're right, we should totally go now. Come on," she said, dragging me by my arm. Once we were out of hearing range — or what she thought was hearing range — she stopped short, forcing me to bump into her, falling to the ground to keep from hurting her.

"What the hell, Jess?" I snapped, scrambling to my feet.

"Oh, you're fine. Now spill," she gushed. I looked at her, confused, and she sighed. "You and Edward Cullen! I'm totally jealous."

"Jealous of what?"

She blinked thrice. "You guys are dating, right?"

"Jess, I've been here for, like, a month. I barely know him!"

"So?"

I sighed. "So, I am not dating Edward Cullen. Drop it."

"Fine," she said begrudgingly. "Well, let's go find Angela."

"What about going to class half an hour early? I was looking forward to that."

She stared at me for a moment and said, "How are we friends?" before taking off down the hallway, leaving me to follow.

 _I don't know, Jessica, I don't know._

* * *

"We should go to Port Angeles this weekend," Jessica said excitedly as we set down our lunch trays. "To shop for prom dresses."

"Prom isn't for two months," Angela pointed out. "Plus, who even goes junior year?"

"We do," she emphasized, gesturing between us with her plastic fork. "And, if we don't go and snag something good now, we'll end up buying the same dress as someone else!"

"And that's the worst thing that could possibly happen," I added sarcastically. Angela muffled a giggle, and Jessica glared daggers at me.

"Well, whatever. If you don't want to come, fine by me," she huffed.

Angela sighed. "I'll go. This weekend, promise."

"I would, but I have plans," I told them. They shared a look between them before staring down at their plates. "What?"

"Plans with Edward Cullen?" Angela muttered. I glared at her, betrayed. She had fallen into the trap of gossip. Gasp.

"No, not with Edward. Although it's _none of your business_ , my plans are with Alice."

"His sister?" said Mike as he and the rest joined us, plopping down beside Jessica. "She's weird."

"Why do you tolerate them?" Lauren adds from across the table. "I swear that family is full of freaks and incest."

"They aren't actually related," Angela chimed in. "Not all of them." Or any of them…

"They're amazing people," I defended, knowing they could hear me. "They're good and generous and welcoming. You shouldn't judge people like that."

"Plus they're hot. I'd totally get with ice queen or pixie," Mike added.

Eric snorted. "Yeah, like you could get either."

"Bella got Edward," Jessica said, giggling. Mike frowned, and I ignored him.

"I didn't _get_ anyone. We're friends, that's all."

For a second, Mike looked hopeful. "So he's not your boyfriend?"

"No. I've never had a boyfriend." The gasps that echoed around the table set a frown on my face, and I glared at the apple on my lunch tray, muttering under my breath, "What?"

"Isabella Swan, are you telling me that, in seventeen years of life, you have not once had a boyfriend?" I shook my head, about to tell her that I'd never even been on a date but thinking better of it. Perhaps telling them hadn't been my wisest decision.

"I just wasn't very social at my last school," I murmured, unwilling to elaborate. My past was a topic undisclosed to these people. Why should they care, anyway?

"In Phoenix?" Jessica asked. I didn't correct her — in fact, my last school was in Florence. They didn't need to know that.

Angela smiled encouragingly. "I guess I understand. It's a big place, lots of people. Intimidating."

Lauren scoffed. "I bet they beat you up."

"Why the hell would they do that? She's gorgeous," Mike added, making her and Jess frown. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, silent. Both from Mike's comment and the fact that Lauren's assumption wasn't that far — at all far — from the truth. But I wasn't going to tell them that.

"Why would you say that, Lauren?" Angela whispered, hurt on my behalf.

"Because it's true," she smirked. "I know it is."

"And how do you know this?"

"The video," she answered nonchalantly, making me tense in my seat. The video… she couldn't mean… Lauren pulled out her phone, opening up an email and turning it to face them. "It's all over the internet. I didn't recognize Bella at first, but if you look closely, you can see it's her."

After she pressed a button, voices came from her phone, familiar voices, over a staticky background. I couldn't see the screen, but I didn't have to — I had been there, after all. The childish quips filled my ears, loud even in the crowded lunchroom, followed by a scream, a thud, a snap — the breaking of bones. And then more sounds, unfamiliar, that must have occurred after the blackness took me that day. It was like listening to a recording of gladiator fights, blood sport, cheers drowning out the sounds of hurt.

Pushing myself out of the chair, I left the room in a hurry, leaving the untouched apple sitting alone on my lunch tray. It didn't matter in that moment that I was beautiful, powerful, immortal… a different person from who I used to be. In that moment, I was that weak little girl who couldn't hold her own. Angela called out my name, but made no move to follow me; in the back of my mind was the worry that I was walking a little _too_ fast, but I shoved it back and slowed my pace just a little.

Alice caught up to me just as I broke through the school's front gates into the parking lot. "Bella!" she called out, jogging slowly behind me. I stopped, letting her take hold of my arm.

I didn't turn around. "What is it, Alice?"

She was quiet for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. "I'm sorry. I didn't see it. She just made the decision like that to show it to them."

"It's not your fault," I told her, but the sharp edge to my voice made it seem like an insult. "Gosh, Alice, not everything is your fault."

She recoiled like I'd slapped her, and guilt filled every crevasse of my body. "Bella—"

"Ali, I didn't mean that," I confessed, pulling her hunched frame into my arms. "It was just that _video…"_

"It was _horrible_ ," she whispered, pain travelling through her voice and into my chest like a knife. "How could they do that to you?"

"I wasn't anyone to them, Ali. Not a real person." She sobbed tearlessly into my shirt, and I held her close, running my fingers through her spiked hair. In that moment, she was so small, so child-like, that I felt like her mother, or her older sister — later I would laugh humourlessly as I realized just how much older than me she actually was.

Then a thought hit me like a freight train, making my heart sink into my toes _._ I pulled away from Alice, panic strewn across my features like clothes across a teenage boy's room, head swivelling to face the building.

"What is it?" Alice asked, catching my distress like the plague. "What happened?"

"Edward," I managed to get out. Alice's eyes widened in recognition.

" _Shit_."

* * *

I found him somewhere deep in the woods, trees ripped to shreds around him, one lifted high above his head as he tossed it to the ground. The crash resounded through the forest, making whatever birds were left shoot up into the sky like rockets. I caught his hands as he moved for another, shaking my head softly.

He lifted his gaze to mine and muttered, "I'll kill them." It was quiet, threatening, but also scared, like now that he'd said it, I would run away from him. Maybe I should have been afraid, or even disappointed, but all I could feel was empathy. Like if I had seen a video like that with Edward in my place, I would have searched the entire world to find the abuser, and I would have…

"No, you won't," I told him, lacing our fingers together, not missing how his trembled. "Because you're better than they are. Better than I am."

"No one could be better than you are," he replied, and I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting the urge to write him an essay on why that one statement wasn't true. I took his face in my hands, rubbing circles on his cheek with my thumb, and he relaxed, muscles loosening, but the anger still blazed in his eyes.

"It's okay," I whispered. He shook his head.

"It's not okay. No one should have to go through that."

"But it happened. And now it's over. Now I'm strong."

He took a shaky breath. "I know. You're so strong. But you always have been." I could feel him calm beneath my fingers, and it made my stomach flutter and lurch at the same time.

"I can't keep going on this way," I muttered to myself, but he stared down at me curiously in that way that he only looks at me, considering he never has to ask anyone else what they mean. I sighed, elaborating. "It's like everything I feel is a thousand times stronger now. And yeah, it's the bad ones, like anger or thirst. But, the good ones too, they're so…"

"Overwhelming?" he supplied.

"Yeah." His forehead touched mine. "And it's not bad, not at all, just… overwhelming."

"So why can't you keep going on like this?"

I hesitated, wondering if I should tell him, finally acknowledge this thing between us. I decided on vagueness, and stare up into his golden eyes, reminding myself why I can't give in just yet. "Because I'm afraid I'll end up doing something I shouldn't."

His breathing caught. "Something you'll regret."

"No," I disagreed. "Just something I'm not ready for."

Neither of us acknowledged any more than we already had, just standing in the forest, surrounded by broken trees, blaming them for the lack of oxygen in our lungs.

"We should get back to school," Edward said, fanning my face with his hot breath. "Your father is already angry with you, or so I've heard."

"Yeah," I reply under my breath. "We should go."

Edward pulls a watch from his pocket, staring at the head. "We have six minutes until next period."

I cocked my eyebrow. "We're miles from school. I don't think we'll make it back in time."

"Oh, really?" he teased. "Race you." He tapped my shoulder once before taking off, weaving through the trees like a needle through fabric, and I bolted after him, laughter breaking from my chest, worries forgotten.

We got back with time to spare, skidding to a stop at the edge of the forest where we couldn't be seen and walking the rest of the way at normal speed, hands pressed together at the palms. I moved to let go as we reached the parking lot, but he just held me tighter.

"Let them see," he whispered in my ear, though I could have heard him from miles away. "Let them all see."

"Okay," I replied, feeling a phantom blush sweep across my cheeks. Stares were directed at us, as though trying to burn a hole in our joined hands, to force us apart, but we stood tall, together. And maybe it was too soon, but neither of us could find it within ourselves to care.

Angela approached us tentatively. "Bella! There you are! I've been searching for you all over the school."

"Yeah, I just needed a breather. I'm okay, promise," I told her, leaning into Edward's touch. Her gaze flitted between us, and right when I thought she was going to make a snide comment, a wide, genuine smile stretched across her lips, twitching at the ends like she was trying to keep its true extent at bay.

"I don't doubt that. Well, then, I'll see you," she said before running off towards the building. It wasn't until she was gone that I realized our next class was together, and she was probably going to offer to walk with me — but now the task had fallen upon Edward. Cheeky girl.

He tugged our hands in the direction of the campus and grinned. "I suppose I should walk you to class."

"You don't have to," I muttered, trying to hide my face with my hair. Maybe it was ridiculous to get so flustered over something so small, but I couldn't help it. I felt my age for the first time in a really long time — a teenage girl, flushed at the thought of a handsome boy walking her to class.

"Oh, but I do," he replied cheekily. "My mother taught me to be gentlemen."

I smiled at how his eyes shimmered, talking about his mother. It was insanely adorable, really, and I just couldn't help it. So we walked through the halls together, grinning stupidly, the lunchtime incident long forgotten.

The grin was still plastered on my face when the final bell rang, and I soon found myself in my truck, driving home, without a clue as to what we had learned all afternoon.

* * *

I was waiting at the small dinner table, a single setting gingerly placed across from me, when my father walked through the door. He looked up when he saw me, eyes narrowing when they landed on the table.

"No dinner?" he asked gruffly, hanging his coat on the wooden rack and slinging his gun across the side table. I sometimes wondered why he even carried the thing around; nothing bad ever happened in Forks, despite it practically being vampire capitol of America. I stifled a giggle at the thought.

"Um, no. I already ate," I explained to him, standing up to get his food from the oven where it was warm, reminding myself to use oven mitts, reminding myself to act human. Simple things like that could give me away completely. Charlie huffed and collapsed into his chair.

"Long day?" I asked as he rubbed the tense spot between his eyes. He nodded.

"Boss has been givin' me a hard time," he muttered, thanking me quickly for the food before plunging his fork into the chicken.

I frowned. "I thought you were the boss."

"I am here. But the world is bigger than Forks, and sometimes us folks forget that." Then he smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "Anyway, I got an interesting call from old man Glenn earlier."

"What's that?" I asked, wiping down the immaculate counter just for something to do. "Did Harry Clearwater win another fishing competition?"

"Not this time, though I wouldn't be surprised," Charlie muttered jealously. "No, he says his granddaughter was going on about how the Cullen boy, the one your age, was holding hands with some girl at school."

I choked on air, spluttering and turning down the glass of water that Charlie offered me. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, said they looked real close."

"Hmm," I said, trying to seem uninterested. "Did she say who it was?"

"No," Charlie told me, eyeing me suspiciously. "It's odd, isn't it? They've been here two years, and this is the first I'm hearing of it. They usually keep to themselves."

"Right, I've seen them at school," I approached the topic casually. "I'm actually friends with the daughter."

His eyebrows shot up, surprised. "The one with short hair, or the blonde?"

"Short hair. Name's Alice."

"Right, her father might have mentioned her in passing."

"You and Dr. Cullen know each other well?" I questioned, despite how weird this conversation was getting.

"We're acquaintances. In our lines of work, we see each other sometimes, sad as it is." He paused. "Good man, from what I can tell. A little reserved."

"They've got people judging them everywhere," I defended. "I think they just don't want to deal with that any more than they have to."

"I didn't mean that as an insult," he clarified. "I think they're a great family. Respectable. I'm glad you and… Alice, was it? I'm glad you and Alice are friendly." I bit my lip, knowing he would change his tune once he found out about me and Edward — whatever we were.

"That's good to know," I answered, not looking him in the eye. He cleared his throat and changed the subject.

"Anyway, you remember your uncle? Jack? He's coming up to visit us this week." Uncle Jack was my father's roommate in college — not blood related, just his closest friend. He was practically my uncle for the first half of my life, but it had been almost seven years since I last saw him.

"Yeah, I remember. Where's he coming from, again?"

"From Madrid. He moved there with his wife when he was offered a position," he told me. "He'll be stopping in Maine first, though. That's where his son goes to college. You remember little Ash, right? Just a few years older than you. Actually, Jack's flight was earlier this morning, so he should be there by now."

"Looking forward to it," I replied earnestly. It would be good to see him again. Suddenly, the landline sprung to life, rattling against the wall as though there were an earthquake. Charlie stood, and I cleared his empty plate from the table, moving it over to the sink as he took his call.

"Yes, this is he," I heard from the kitchen as I scrubbed the oil from the plate. Worry seeped into his voice, clear as the line of water running from the tap. "What? Are you sure?" A pause. "No. No, it can't be. From Madrid?" Another pause. "No, I understand. Thank you, deputy."

Concerned, I turned to face my father, only to be met with a ghostly white face, paler than my own. His eyes were wide, the corners moistened. I hadn't seen my father cry in a really long time.

He looked straight at me, but it was like he couldn't see. "There was an incident," he said, a ghost of a whisper, "with the plane."

"Did it crash?" I exclaimed, rushing over to him to offer him comfort.

"No," he breathed out, turning even whiter. "No, it landed safe."

"Then what happened?"

He choked out a sob, leaning against the kitchen counter and closing his eyes. "It landed safely, but… everyone inside was… dead. Captain, passengers… Jack."

That was the last thing he said before his eyes rolled back into his head, and my father collapsed in my arms.

 **A/N: Okay, first of all, I know. It's been a hot minute. But here's an apology chapter. I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading. All reviews, favs, and follows make my day!**

 **Love, theartlessrose xoxo**


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